Game
by PanicButton
Summary: Reid and the usual suspects...a continuation of Baby Snatcher. What's happened to Reid? How will the team react to the losses. blah blah crap review etc etc some slash...some bad language.
1. Chapter 1

Game

**a/n: continuation from Baby Snatcher and the Princess.**

_The world always makes the assumption that the exposure of an error is identical with the discovery of truth--that the error and truth are simply opposite. They are nothing of the sort. What the world turns to, when it is cured on one error, is usually simply another error, and maybe one worse than the first one. __-__H. L. Mencken_

* * *

An Introduction of Players

Dr Spencer Reid.

The first few days I think I could still think straight. I think my brain was still functioning up until my second night. If I was going to put an actual time on it, you know an incident which caused me to fall apart it was most likely that second night. I'd managed to clean my burned hand. I'd managed to find some small berries which I thought were probably not poisonous; and luckily they weren't, and I seemed to be able to drink the river water in small quantities. Too much gave me severe reminders why I should be careful with the water. I did everything I said I was going to do on my second day out here alone. I slept for a short while as I'd spent the night before watching the shadows and then I continued to follow the river. Eventually it will come to a bigger river and then I'll have more hope of finding someone or something. More hope of escaping this nightmare I was stuck in. I pulled dead branches from trees into a huddle and made room so I could crawl under them. I had collected what looked to be some nuts of some kind which I would investigate later but I was still being followed by a humming black cloud of insects which were just waiting for me to stay still long enough for them to land on me and start feasting on my sweaty skin. So as the light began to fail I felt secure in the knowledge that the monster in the dark would be there again but I would be safe. It would just watch. It would wait and really when it finally would come for me I would be beyond caring anyway. There I held a small bit of comfort. As long as I could see those red eyes watching me I knew I was still alive.

_Who are you trying to kid Spencer?_

_Are you sure it's not just waiting for you to sleep?_

'Yes I'm sure.'

I had to be sure because if not then I would eventually die simply because I'd not slept. I'd pass out with exhaustion and it would come and take me anyway. I know that I had a few hours sleep earlier and it didn't take me then. It could have done: if it really wanted to. My hand will probably be the thing which kills me though, I'm pretty sure of that. The infection has got worse. The burn is wet and I can hardly move my fingers on my right hand now. I've been washing it in the self same water which makes me vacate my bowels at an alarming speed if I drink too much. God only knows what bugs and eggs I've got stuck to my skin now; little things feeding on the puss and digging their tiny bodies into my hand. It's strange though because it doesn't hurt as much now.

Anyway, I was going to tell you what made me slip from my logical way of planning and thinking to a dark place I've been hiding in ever since. I curled up and I looked around and searched with bleary eyes in the dark for the eyes. I didn't see them at first, but I heard it. I could hear the snorting and shuffling away under the trees away from the moon light. I wanted it to come closer so I could see it better. I needed to see it for my own security, but I still couldn't. I thought maybe if I moved slightly, maybe it was just out of my line of sight behind a tree or bush or rocky outcropping and so I rolled over so I was on my back and prepared to move to my side and then it happened and it happened in slow motion which was the strangest thing. One by one the branches lying across me were pulled away. At first I thought and hoped that I'd just dislodged them, but my hope faded pretty fast when another branch was pulled away and I could see those eyes.

_Told you it would come for you._

_Count to five, while you're still alive._

_Take your last breath, cos here comes death._

I pulled my knees up close to my chest and kicked out at the eyes as hard as I could. 'Stay away from me! I'm not dead!'

_Yet._

I then scrabbled backwards on my butt and once out of the tangle of branches I got to my feet and ran. I didn't care if it was dark. It really didn't matter anymore because I knew that the monsters were real now, and I knew there was one snorting and lumbering behind me. Playing with its catch. Chasing supper as it ran blindly into the forest.

It wasn't this though which unhinged me. It wasn't the brambles scraping along my arms trying to hold me back for the thing. It wasn't the branches whipping across my chest and face. That I could have handled if that's all it was. I stumbled a few times and was sure I could feel its hot breath on the back of my neck. 'Take a bite.' I told it, but as I got back to my feet again it hadn't. It wanted to watch me run and I obliged. When the undergrowth I was wading through suddenly stopped and my left foot discovered that there was a reason for that as for a fleeting second it hung there in midair wondering where the ground had gone I knew and it wasn't even a deep down knowledge, it was right there on the surface screaming, that there was nothing I could do. I was already falling. Not a shear drop, but a steep enough slope for my forward momentum to pull my head over and down cracking on the stony slope I'd run or more stumbled to. At first I rolled. My head hitting the ground and then spinning me and my back scraping across it and then my butt in the air as my head overtook my body again. I rolled like this making odd howls as I felt rocks and stones digging into my head and back, until I hit something. Maybe a rock, maybe it was a tree stump, I'm not sure but it changed the way I was falling and put me onto my side. I felt the pain of whatever I hit spreading over my lower back and then I was on my side with my eyes closed in the darkness not wanting even a tiny glimpse of what I was falling towards. I rolled now from my back to my front and onto my back again and I did try to protect my head from as much as I could and I tried to dig in my feet and slow myself down, but I was failing on both accounts. It was the small stubby bushes I rolled into which finally slowed me. I reached out to grab something to stop myself and realised before it was too late that it was my right hand. My howls of distress turned into a scream as I felt the damaged flesh being ripped from my hand and I carried on for about another twenty foot or so bouncing painfully off the brambles and small bushes until it suddenly stopped and I realised I'd stopped moving. I wanted to curl up and hold my hand against me tightly but all I could do was lie there on my ripped up back with my arms splayed above my head and stare at the moon shining down on me. I wondered if I'd broken my neck. I deserved to have.

'It's not just monsters in the dark I have to be careful of.' I think I said that aloud but I'm not really sure of it.

When I awaken from either the sleep or the pain I was feeling I could see the sun shining above me. It didn't come and get me then. I'm not sure if I'm pleased or not. I would have really liked it to get it over with. I don't think that there was any part of my I'd not injured and though I thought I might have ripped my hand right off at the wrist when I fell, right then I felt nothing but a dull ache coming from the very centre of my palm. I moved my arms slowly to my sides. I didn't want to look at the damage I did yet. I move slowly next pulling my knees up towards me and keeping my feet on the rough ground and then using my elbow as leverage I pushed up and sat and had a look around me. The silence at first was eerie, there was nothing; not even the sound of my breathing and I wondered if the smacks to my head had damaged my hearing. I could feel the pulse of my heart in my brain and behind my eyes and as I looked down at myself I could see the smears of blood and bits of leaves and other things stuck to me. The mosquitoes were back too; piercing at my skin and sucking at my blood. I slapped a few off with my good hand but there were far more worrying things to think about. Getting to my feet and moving was one of them, but I managed it slowly and I stood for a while bent forwards and my feet slightly splayed with my left hand resting on my left knee and I just waited for the dizziness to pass so that I could carry on my journey following the river. It was at this point that I realised that I couldn't actually hear the river anymore. The little trickling bubbling sounds I'd heard so clearly the day before were gone. Then again so had everything. It was like someone had muted the landscape during the commercials ready for the show to start again.

I found it though. I did find the river. It was tumbling down the side of the slope I'd fallen down the previous night in a great waterfall. A great silent waterfall. I slapped at my left ear with my hand trying to make it hear something, but there was nothing. At least I had the river to follow now even if I couldn't hear it. It also meant that I wouldn't be able to hear the monster in the dark either and that thought caused a twisting in the pit of my stomach. I survived it though. I got away. I'm still alive. It didn't kill me. Moreover I didn't kill myself.

_Yet._

After washing in the river, still not having the courage to look at my right hand, I carried on following it. Eventually it would join another river, a bigger river or maybe a lake. Maybe a lake with powerboats and little holiday homes nestled along the edges. Maybe.

_Keep dreaming Spencer. You know that's not going to happen._

It will happen! Why is it that the only thing I could hear was the little voice living inside of my head?

It was a long day. I remember how that day seemed to take far too long to reach an end. Again time seemed to be messing with me. I managed to find some edible things on the way. Some late fiddleheads which were probably not at their best but I carefully pulled at the fern and slipped the little twisted plants into my mouth. Not the most wonderful thing I'd ever eaten that's for certain, but the most wonderful thing I'd eaten in a few days. I wasn't sure at that point exactly how many days it had been. Had it been two or three? Or had it been weeks? Dandelion was another thing I was able to recognise and know I could eat; though boiling it in salt water would have been better. I popped the smaller of the bright green leaves in my mouth and chewed slowly. I wanted coffee. I needed sugar. I needed my own bed and my apartment and my books. And I needed to hear again.

I had been hoping for a miracle. I had been hoping for that lake and the powerboats, but as the small river took a big turn to the right and I followed slowly along the bank looking out for things to eat I saw it. For a while I just stood and stared. It wasn't a lake. It wasn't a road. It wasn't even a bigger river. It was a small wooden hut covered in creepers and vines. I know a smile crept over my face for the first time in what seemed forever. I could feel that my face was surprised that I was using those muscles after such a long time, but it let me do a big toothy happy smile. I found somewhere. I found a miracle. It was probably a rangers hut. There ground around it hadn't been cultivated in any way. It was a temporary place for some one to rest, not a home, but it stood there with the plants growing over it pretending to be Eden. I think I let out a small 'Ha!' as I walked towards it, but I don't know if I actually said it nor not. I meant to, but I didn't hear it. There was a trail in the forest leading from the hut to the river and so I made my way to this and walked along it as though coming home from a long tiring day at work. The place looked to be about fifteen foot square and it even had a tall metal chimney poking through the roof. 'Ha!' I said again, maybe, and walked to the much over grown door. No one had been here in a long time, which was alright. I didn't mind that; though the thought that someone wouldn't arrive and save me from my torturous trip niggled slightly, really it didn't matter. I was saved. I could survive now.

Pulling back the vines and creepers from the door didn't take long, or maybe it took hours, again time seemed to be confusing me. I was careful to use only my left hand and was beginning to notice that my right elbow and shoulder hurt. I would have to check out my hand, but for now I was going to get into my new home. The door opened silently but I could feel it scraping and feel that it really didn't want to be pushed inwards the way I did. I suspect it in actuality made a dreadful noise. The inside was dark and cool. There was a smell of age and dirt about it, but my smile came back as I looked at the small rough made bench and stall and I felt like laughing when I spied the small dirty camp bed pushed into the corner. In one wall was a log burning stove which made me draw in a quick deep breath of panic as I could almost smell the fish hearts and livers burning away on it. There was even a pile of logs and a big old cooking pan. Wonderful, except I had no idea how to make fire out here alone. On one wall was a window with shutters closed across it. I didn't bother opening them. I just wanted to lie down on that bed and sleep and after a quick check for snakes and bugs I went back and pushed the door closed and flopped down on the dirty blanket and closed my eyes and feel asleep without another thought.

As soon as I opened my eyes again I knew something was wrong. The light had dimmed but it had a strange reddish look about it. The shadows where pushed right back into the corners and there was a strong smell of wood burning. I moved my head probably too quickly and looked at the stove. Someone had been here. Someone had come in as I slumbered and lit the fire. There was also a small metal bowl and a mug on the table which I was sure hadn't been there when I arrived. Still that eerie silence though. I thought about calling out, but then decided not to. Instead I got up and limped to the table. The mug had a milky liquid in it and the bowl had what looked to be a broth of some kind and under the mug was a bit of paper. I slid the bit of paper out from under it and looked at the writing scrawled across it.

"Don't let the fire go out."

Was all it said so I put it down again and sat on the wobbly stall and peered at the food and drink. Still I'd not looked at my hand and still I didn't feel ready to do that, but the thought that someone had been here and left me something felt good. I should maybe have been wondering who it was who did it and why they didn't wake me up, but I didn't. What I did was pick up the bowl of liquid and tipped it back down my throat without so much as a thought of what it could be. The taste was revolting and I could feel my stomach resenting this flood of liquid almost immediately. I picked up the mug and drank swiftly from that too trying to get the vile bitter taste out of my mouth and trying to stop the burning in the back of my throat I could now feel. How I could have been so stupid twice in such close succession I don't know, but I managed it anyhow. My rush from the small hut to the warm evening air was a lunging stagger and I emptied what I had just consumed in a hot burning blast into the undergrowth. I then walked slowly to the river and had a cool drink and wondered why someone would go to the bother of lighting the stove for me if only to poison me afterwards.

I did remember to put more wood on the fire. I know that much and then I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes and tired to ignore the feeling that my throat was closing and I tried to pretend that the cramps in my stomach weren't there and I thought of Hotch and all the things I could have done to avoid the situation I was in.

The next time I woke up I knew again that someone had been in the hut with me. I could smell cooking for a start; the smell of meat. And when I went to turn over I thought initially that my right arm had become stiff and paralyzed but then when I looked down I saw that someone had bandaged it. Someone had been here with me and had cleaned my damaged hand. The pulsing ache deep down in my palm had stopped and I also realized that the funny smell I'd had following me around had gone too. On the table now was a slab of bread and sitting on the stove bubbling gently was the big pot of something which this time really did look like something good to eat. It occurred to me then that maybe I'd drank something meant to clean my had up with.

It was around now that things slipped and changed for me. Someone came to the hut every day and left me food. My hand slowly healed and someone changed the dressings when I was sleeping. The only thing I really did was to make sure that the fire didn't go out. When the woodpile looked like it was going out I went and collected more bits to add to it. I felt strangely settled and at home. My urge to go and find my way out of the forest had dissipated to a low gnawing occasionally at the back of my mind and they red eyes were gone. At least I didn't see them in my hut. I think for the first time in my life I felt free. Free of expectations and free of pressure. I practiced what I'd seen Floyd do and eventually managed to catch fish. The first time shocked me and I threw it back as it looked at me with dark unblinking eyes. The only thing really I wished would change was that I still couldn't hear anything.

Nothing lasts forever though and my stay in the hut in the forest did eventually end and now I'm here. I'm not sure what this place is, but the corridors are dim and people stop and look at me huddled on the floor and they talk to me but I don't hear them. I seem to get chunks of my days which just go missing and I look for the bits which have gone and I can never find them. My room here is small and white and my bed is small and white and the window has bars on it and at night they allow the shadows to come back and they lock the door and I lie awake for as long as I can just staring at the ceiling because I know….

………right there……over in the corner…..there is a pair of red eyes watching me.

Hotchner.

I've tried to distance myself from it. I think in the beginning I did a damned good job of it too. I listened to Dave's advice and I stopped all communication with Sam. They found him a place in a secure unit. I didn't go to visit him. I didn't call them and ask how he was, but that was at first. I couldn't sleep and when I did I had nightmares about what had happened to him and so eventually I did contact the unit and they told me he had settled in reasonably well and was a lot calmer since the new lot of medications had been given to him. He was refusing to talk to anyone about his experiences, but it made me feel better about things. I knew he was safe. No one had come after him. All was good.

As for life in general things have been sliding back into place. There is a new guy now filling the space that Spencer once filled. Rory is a good bloke. He's the same age as Morgan and they seem to get on alright, but it's not the same. It will never be the same. We do however have a job to do and I have pulled myself together sufficiently for the looks from Dave to stop and for the job to get done properly. We've had changes of staff before. We lost Gideon and Elle from the team and we survived, but I know what happened to them. They didn't just disappear off the face of the earth. They are still alive and well and happy. Spencer though, there is still a raw painful hole where his life had once been. We talked about a memorial for him. There really seems to be no hope of finding him alive. We all know Flanders did something to him, we just don't know what it is. Rossi suggested that he keeps going for his chats with him. He thinks a memorial is too soon. I hope to god he's right.

The months have passed so fast and yet they've dragged. I used to think every time my phone rang that it would be Reid…it never was and now that feeling is dying away with the hope I had of seeing him alive again. I see Jack regularly though. I am insistent with Strauss that I have enough time off to see Jack. I've lost too much recently. I'm not going to lose him too.

David Rossi

They say "time heals" and I'm still waiting for that time. The team works well together. We have a new media liaison who struggled at first and I thought there would be a repeat of the problems we had with Agent Todd, but I gave time to talk to her. To invite her around for dinner and to go out for a drink with her. She confided her worries and we sorted through them. She's a nice person; tall with mousey brown hair always pulled back into a pony tail. She has one of those faces that you immediately smile at. I'm not saying at all that this is going to lead to a romance because I am a long way past all that, but I like her and she's good at her job.

Aaron I am more worried about. He puts on his typical stoic look and hides behind the costume of a suit and tie but I know that beneath the surface he's not as calm as he'd like to make us all think. I know he thinks constantly about Reid. I know he worries about Prentiss. I know he is in contact with Sam, even if he does deny it; well not actually deny it, but he side steps any conversations about it very deftly. I watch him carefully; more carefully than at first. When this all kicked off it was obvious how he was feeling. His emotions were there plain to see, but now he's hiding them and that bothers me and though I'm watching him carefully I do it less obviously. So far he's not compromised himself.

I visit Flanders. I'm waiting for him to talk to me again and I know he will say more than a couple of words in Latin to me eventually and when he does we will know what happened to Spencer and we will have some closure on it. Until then for a lot of us his absence is an open raw wound and I need him to tell me what happened out there. I have to get him to tell me what he did to Reid.

Agent Emily Prentiss

Time for a change. I had my hair cut and changed my image slightly.

I always feel so tired. It's like something is draining my soul and I don't know how to stop it happening. We tried to get Rosa back. I thought we'd succeed. We knew where she was. We knew what to expect, but when we arrived the place was vacated. We tried to find out where they'd gone, but they seemed to have just disappeared. They route they had been taking across the country was abandoned and it seemed they split up and went different ways to avoid easy detection of them. It broke my heart again. How many times can my heart be smashed like this? I don't know if it can take another battering like that one. I've had to accept that at least for the time being Rosa is lost to us.

Lost to me.

Again.

I failed her.

Again.

I've taken up smoking quite heavily. It helps at night when I'm alone in the apartment standing at my damned window with the phone unplugged – waiting. Always waiting, but I know he won't come to me. I know he's locked up and strapped down somewhere unable to ease the pain I feel constantly inside me….in that place where my soul is being sucked dry.

I can do my job though. When at work I am meticulous to the point of being obsessive that I get my job done with no hick ups. I look around me and I see everyone else coping and I wonder if they too are dying inside a little bit more each day.

Today it's been raining. I love rainy evenings. They make me feel a bit better inside. I don't know why. Maybe it's the way the lights below me twist or maybe it's the almost hypnotic way the rain runs down the window pane; it doesn't really matter why though. All that matters is that tonight I feel a bit better. This evening with one palm pressed to the glass and the other hand holding a hand rolled smoke between the fingers and looking at the strange patterns the lights make causes a sort of soothing inside.

Everything will be alright.

As for Reid…this is a difficult one. I feel nothing. I just have this strange empty place where he used to be. There's no sorrow and no grief; there's just a big nothing. I did talk to someone every night after work (when I could) about this. I felt I should feel something, but no amount of talking about the loss of Reid could force me to feel anything at all. Eventually I gave up. I was wasting my money talking to someone when I could talk to myself for free and still get no results from it. Maybe I should have given it more time, or maybe, just maybe I don't want to feel anything. Maybe I am too angry with him. Maybe I don't care what happened to him and though that's not like me to think that way, I really do think that I've compartmentalised him out of existence and right now that's the best place for him to be.

Apart from that everything is good. I like the new guy and I like the new media liaison. They had big shoes to fill, but I think because they came to us at around the same time it was a bit easier for them. I remember being the new girl. It's not easy. It's damned hard in fact and I'm not always sure it's worth the struggle. Not if that struggle means I chain smoking and being sucked dry inside by some unknown force.

Derek

I'm angry. I won't deny that. Everyone knows it too. I don't keep feeling like that hidden too well. I'm so damned angry sometimes that I want to scream, but I don't. What am I angry about? I'm furious that the son of a bitch Flanders is safe and well and warm and alive and that my little bro isn't. I asked Rossi once if I could go with him to talk to Flanders. I'd get the guy talking, even if I had to smack it out of him, I'd get the information we need, but he said "no". He didn't think it was a good idea and maybe he's right. I just know that creature killed my little buddy and I want revenge. I want him to feel the pain we are all feeling. Yes we are all feeling it even if we try to hide it. We look at each other and we know that we are all feeling the same grief. All except Emily. I'm not sure what's going on with her. I've been reprimanded a couple of times by Hotch for going a bit to far when apprehending someone. Maybe I was a bit rough. Maybe I didn't have to hit him so hard, but it felt good.

I'm spending a lot of time working out. I've started up the self defence classes again. I just feel this enormous amount of something inside of me that I can only release when I've got that full adrenaline rush going. I don't think since I was a kid I've hated someone as much as I hate myself right now. Where was I when Spencer was in trouble? Where the hell was I?! No damned where! That's where I was and that hurts me a lot more than I've hurt the occasional UnSub when my fist meets his jaw.

Penelope

I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. My head can't cope with those thoughts. I want to curl up and hide somewhere dark and hug my teddy and pretend that the world is a nice place after all and I just made a mistake and these dreadful things didn't happen.

I want to walk into work and see Reid at his desk and JJ running past with an arm full of folders.

I want it all back as it was!

I demand it!

No amount of pink twinkly things around my monitors makes this better. No amount of talking to Morgan satisfies me. He can't fix it. No one can fix it. Not even ice cream makes it better, not when I know I have to come here to work again and see the wrong people here.

I've stopped crying all the time now and I don't like that either. My head is trying to tell me that it's not as important anymore. That it doesn't deserve my grief anymore but it does! I want that twisting painful feeling even though I don't want to talk about it I still need that feeling inside and I'm so scared I'll stop feeling it.

'We need closure.'

I've been told it will help. Help what though. Help us forget Spencer? Help us forget JJ? What exactly will "closure" do? I'm not ready for that. I don't think I will ever be ready to accept that Spencer and JJ are both gone.

I sneak around inside the hospital computers. I have a look to see exactly what is going on with Flanders. "Unresponsive." One will say. "Violent and out of control" another will say. Something happened. Something bad happened, I know that much. Something so bad that even a murdering kidnapping cannibal serial killer can't face it.

What the hell happened?!

The Extras.

Sam

I don't like it here!

I fucking well hate this place! I don't want to be here and I demand they let me go. What did I do wrong? I saved baby – I did the right thing and for that I'm put here in this place I can't get out of. I did once. Once I got out and I was halfway down the drive at a run before they caught up and tackled me to the ground and hauled me screaming back to the ward.

They send me to a bloke to talk to every day and he asks me a lot of questions and I sit and stare at the wall behind him and refuse to talk. I said when I first came here that I'd only talk to Hotchner and I mean it. I'd behave for him. I'd do what ever he asked me to do, but he has to get me out of this shit hole before I do something really bad….

Something really bad again…

I was pretending to take my meds and then spitting them down the toilet, but they caught me and so now I have daily injections in my butt and thighs. They told me that I'm not to let other "guests" fuck me and I'm not to have them either. It's a bloody load of bullshit! I'm sixteen for fucks sake! I can do what I want! I didn't know he was only fourteen! How the hell was I to know? We don't walk around with our ages pinned to our shirts you know.

I've been told that I'm a violent sexual offender and I've been told a lot of other shit too and you don't want to believe it. I don't know why I'm even talking to you.

Where the fuck is Hotchner?!

Flanders.

Oh where to start. Firstly I didn't kill Spencer. I killed me. Well I didn't even do that myself they snatched me away. I wouldn't have hurt Spence. I would never hurt him. You know that don't you? They removed me from the game and tried to get me to play some other crap, but I saw through it. I saw right through their tricks and fuckups. I needed to get back to Spence. I knew he'd fall apart on his own out there. I can live for years in the forests but Spence? Not a chance in hell and he proved that rather well don't you think.

So I'm here now. I'm locked inside my head. For a while I was free to roam, but they stopped that too. For a while I visited Spence. I didn't talk to him but I kept him alive. They didn't like that. They didn't like that we'd formed a strange disjointed alliance again them. They arranged that he was found. They took him away from me and left me here empty with just Rossi's voice going around in my head. His voice demanding to know what I did to Spence and I want to tell him, but I can't. He wants to know where Spencer is and I don't know. That final thing thread which held us together and gave us a bond has finally gone. I tried calling out to him – to Spence…I tried and only got static.

I guess it's over.

I guess I've lost him.

OK…enough of that bullshit. I'm not going to accept that I've lost him. I'm going to wait and I'm going to watch. I'm going to bide my time and when that time comes I'm going to reclaim what is mine and I'm going to – well…comfort him. I just need to wait until I can figure out how to metabolise this crap they are giving me and they won't know what fucking hit them!

Please bear with me. It might take a while.

* * *

**a/n do I continue????**


	2. Chapter 2 First Roll of the Dice

First Roll of the Dice

* * *

I had Jack for the weekend. We played ball in the park. We ate junk food with too much sugar. He stayed up late and we watched cartoons together. We went out for a trip on a boat. It was a good weekend and when Haley came to pick him up we were both exhausted and full with burgers and fries and cake. I didn't realise how much I resented Haley until Jack shouted with joy to see him mother. Of course he would; Jack adores his mum and that's good, but I did note that he didn't shout with joy when he was dropped off and that painted another layer of dislike over Haley. I'd wanted Jack for the whole week, but she said she'd already made other arrangements and that wasn't possible. She said to give her more notice next time. She said that she didn't like Jack's routine upset that much. She implied that Jack's visits to me were not conducive for a stable childhood. I didn't argue with her. I didn't want to say things in front of my small son which I might regret later. I didn't want him to see his mother and father talking in those low harsh tones we tend to use so often now. I let it go. I accepted what she said and just nodded at her. I'm not sure if it's because I believed what she said, and yes, I know broken homes and divorced parents can be detrimental to the upbringing and welfare of a child, but it's not necessarily so and it wont be in this case. I will give Haley what she wants, but I'm not going to stop seeing my son.

This does however leave me with a week off work and nothing to fill the space. That evening, on the Sunday, after I picked up the things Jack had dropped and after I'd set up the dishwasher and then tided up the small room I have set aside for him in my apartment, after I'd done that and things looked the way they do when a lost man lives alone and there was no evidence that a child had been there (apart for the drawing I had tacked on my small green baize covered notice board next to the refrigerator) – then I sloped to the lounge and took with me a glass and a bottle of whiskey. This wasn't the way things were meant to be. My life wasn't supposed to be empty like this. I thought about switching on the television just for a bit of background noise but decided instead to pull out a book and relax and read. Though _Sexual Offenders: The Reasons Why _wasn't really something relaxing, I knew I could bury my mind into it and read the words and they would stay there in my head for when I needed them. I'd not read past the first chapter though _An Introduction _before I closed it again. I suddenly knew exactly how I would spend my week. I closed the book and placed it on the couch next to me and took a long deep drink from my glass. It felt good. It felt very good; maybe too good? It was OK though. No work tomorrow. A full week off to set my plan in motion and no one to watch me and judge me and tell me that what I was doing was wrong or unreasonable. In a word, no David Rossi.

I did turn on the television in the end and I watched something which allowed my brain to relax. I can't actually remember what it was now, but it's not important. What _is _important was that I stop drinking so much and have an early night. I need to be thinking straight tomorrow. I can't afford to go into what I have planned without having both of my eyes wide open. For now though sleep.

I wake up and shower and think about what I should wear. I don't want to be in a suit. A suit is my shield I wear at work. It's a uniform and not a very comfortable one either. As it doesn't look like it'll be raining and it's not too cold I pull on a black Tshirt and a pair of dark jeans and then I top it with a black casual jacket and a pair of boots which I seem to have owned for an eternity but they never wear out. I leave the house in a contemplative mood with a gush of coffee running through me and I do wonder for a very small while if this is the right thing to be doing, but then I think of Jack and I think of the words I read in that book I didn't read and I know that whatever Dave might think, this _is _the right thing to do. Every child deserves someone and though it might be and probably is already too late for Sam, I'm not going to give up.

It's a persistent thought which feels almost as though I'm being pushed towards the place Sam is "living", or is it a pull? I know that I'm not concentrating on my driving and the person in the small red compact had every right to honk his horn at me and shout words at me through his window when unthinkingly I cut him up in the morning traffic. I attempt to push the images and thoughts about Sam to the back of my mind, but it's really not easy.

Sam's not been convicted of a crime. He was placed here at first for his own protection and so the professionals could talk to him and try to get to the root of what had happened in the sixteen years Sam has been alive, but he's refusing to talk to anyone. The sessions are coming to nothing and all he's managed to do it seems is to show more of his true colours. They've told me that he's obsessed with sex and violence and so today I'm going to go and see Sam and I'm going to talk to him, and I'm going to offer to help him. I have a full week to sort something out…

-o-o-o-

I can hear them calling my name and trying to get my attention 'Sam!' I can hear but my head is in a dark reddish place of anger and I don't want to do what they're asking me to do. I want to stay here and kick the doors and cause the other kids to scream. They've decided that I need to go to school and I'm not having it. I'm not doing it! Them and their wonderful fucking ideas! It's not even a real school, it's some crappy classroom where four other kids already go and they're all freaking bonkers! I don't want to be part of that! Today I've refused to get dressed. I'm in my pyjamas and that buster is how it's going to stay! I don't like the damned clothes they've given me to wear! I don't look good in sweat pants! I want my fucking dungarees back! I want to feel like I'm me again and not some loony kid in a place full of other loony kids.

'Fuck you!' I suddenly shout and I'm even more pissed off now because I didn't want to talk to them. I wanted to just scream my anger and frustration out and kill the door.

'There's someone here to see you Sam.' I can hear those words. No one ever comes to see me. Well they do but I'm never told about it like this. This almost sounds like I have a visitor. When people come to see me I'm dragged into a room and forced to sit. They never ever introduce the person to me. I never talk to them. Screw them all! I kick more at the door, but that dark red place has slipped away now and I'm just doing it because I know it pisses them off. My kicks gradually slow down and I look at the smears of blood I've put on the door where I've ripped back a toenail. It doesn't hurt but I'm sure it upsets them to see me do this and I know they will call someone to clean it up and they'll try to get to me to put a dressing on my toe, but they know I'll refuse and if I do sit calmly and let them I'll rip it right off again.

'Who's come to see me?' I stand with my back to them looking at my toes.

'Let's get you cleaned up and dressed first.'

It's the voice of the man who seems to shadow me everywhere I go and I hate him. I don't like being followed and monitored and I bet he has to write long reports about how my day has been too. Bastard.

'I don't want to get dressed and I don't need cleaning up. Who's here to see me?' I turn to look at him now and I stare at his face. He doesn't like this. He really doesn't like me making eye contact with him. I thought I was supposed to be the bonkers one not him.

He nods at me and was that a smile? It was so quick and tiny it was hard to see. 'Come on then. Maybe it's for the best he sees you like this.' And he starts to walk away.

'Who? Who is it?' I follow him. A couple of quick paces and then a pause and a couple more quick steps behind him. I think I'm leaving small bloody marks on the floor. It'll give at stupid cleaning lady something to do other than sit in her cupboard reading porn all day. She's a whore. I can smell it on her. She's a dirty fucking whore, but that's not really my problem. My carer leads me to a room I've not been in before. It's actually a comfortable room. There are couches and pictures on the wall and a rug on the floor. The window is still barred though. I note that. No escape for poor Sam. Poor abused and misunderstood Sam.

I'm told to sit and get comfortable and my visitor will be brought to me so I spend my time looking around the room. The pictures are screwed to the wall and they are mostly views of the sea or sunsets or such. Crappy things which were probably painted by some lunatic whilst doing one of their poxy classes they run. I give them a small snarl. They'll not catch me doing their damned classes. I'm just about to get up and amuse myself by pressing the alarm button when the door opens again and in walks Hotchner. I can't fucking believe it! My salvation! He's come to rescue me! My hero! I leap up and throw myself on the poor unsuspecting bloke and wrap my arms and legs around him and start a long painful sounding howl of distress. I think I made my point. Hotchner carries me over to the couch and plonks me down and stands back looking at me.

'I think we need to talk.' He finally says.

So I wipe the snot away from my nose with the back of my hand and rub at the tears I've squeezed out and give him a shy little nod. 'I said I'd only talk to you. What took you so long?'

He sits down next to me but not close enough that we're touching and turns slightly so he can see me. 'It wasn't as easy as just paying you a few visits Sam.'

I look down at my hands which I have clasped tightly in front of me. 'Well you're here now.' And I look up quickly and give him a little smile. Just to let him know I'm not going to attack him for being such a bastard and leaving me here for so long. 'They keep trying to get me to talk to people and I've said I'll only talk to you.'

'Tell me about yourself Sam. Tell me where you are from and what you have been doing for sixteen years. I need to understand you.'

It's the same question I keep being asked and I suppose that since I made such a drama out of not talking to anyone I'd best say something now. 'I am Sam.' I tell him. 'I've lived all over the place in different places with different people. It's really hard to remember everything you know?'

'Then tell me what your first memory is.'

Well I'm not about to do that, so I make something up for him. 'I remember a big house with a piano. I must've been really small though. I remember a big garden, but as I was really small it was probably not as big as I remember it. I can remember that someone used to play the piano, but I don't know who. I just have a feeling that someone did.' He nods at me.

'Is it a nice place? Are you happy there?'

'Ah yes. I think so. I don't remember anything bad…but as I said I was tiny then and that's really all I can remember. I don't remember what other people looked like, but I know they were there.' It sounds like a reasonable made up memory to me and it seems to satisfy Hotchner.

'Anything else from childhood?'

I frown at him. 'I'm still a child by law so yes I have a whole bunch of childhood memories. Where do you want me to start?'

'With your parents. What are they like? Do you have siblings?'

I have to think carefully now. 'You know I don't remember my parents at all. I remember people keeping an eye on me. I remember the beatings and the hunger and the dreadful pain, but I don't remember one face in particular doing the caring. I don't think I have siblings. Not real ones. Not full ones.' That in part is true. But only in part.

'Do you have any memories of what lead up to the beatings?'

I keep my eyes down and I think. I have to think of something. 'I remember why they did it sometimes. They said I was bad. They said I was a wicked child and they took sticks to me and beat me until I was nearly dead.' I take a juddery breath. 'I skinned a cat. They didn't like that.' I got a reaction from him then. Only small and most people would have missed it, but he did physically react to that statement. 'They took my knife away from me and said they'd show me what it's like to be skinned alive and used my skinning knife on me. They called in a doctor afterwards. I think they thought they'd killed me.'

'Sam. Why did you skin a cat?' Obviously this child is very disturbed. I'm also thinking that he came from a family of travellers so where did the story of the garden and the piano come from?

'I was practicing. They all damned well do it! All of them. I was just curious. Maybe I should have broken its neck first. I think that's why they were so angry with me.' Another shaky breath. 'And they were all sexual predators too.' And I start a full out cry. I have to pause and think what else I can tell him.

'I want you Sam, to think back to the house with the piano again. I want you to think about the garden.'

So I make up some pictures in my head. 'I know there were trees and I know there was a fence with a gate in it, but my memories are really confused that way back Hotchner. I know that the gate was open, but I know it was closed too.'

'Is it warm where you are? Can you smell anything?'

I frown again. 'I don't remember. I really don't. I just have vague pictures in my head. I know I wasn't scared though. It feels like a safe place. I go there sometimes in my head. I stand and listen to the piano or I stand by the gate,' I pause again. 'But I don't stand near the gate when it's open. Somehow that doesn't feel safe.' Time for me to curl up in a ball on the couch and howl like a coyote now. I think I've said enough to get him thinking.

I've got him now. Even if he leaves me today I know he'll be back and I know he'll get me out of here.

-o-o-o-

I think they discovered my fear of the dark the first night I was here. It's strange though because out in the forest that fear gradually waned until; well until that deep darkness felt almost comforting. I knew then that whoever it was who was keeping me alive would be there. He was keeping back the real monsters. He was protecting me and feeding me and at times tending wounds too. Yes I spent time and caught fish and yes I also kept the fire going. That was my main worry. I couldn't let the fire go out. It had been close a couple of times and the terror that I'd be without that security made sure that every day I went looking for wood. I was deeply afraid that it would go out before I returned and somewhere in my mind I connected that fire with the person with the red eyes who was helping me.

Now though I'm here. I don't have to worry about that. They encourage me to go and sit in a large room which would likely be very noisy if I could hear and I'd be sat at a table and food would be put in front of me. Some people sat in huddles or in groups of two or three, I though keep away from them. I don't want them leeching off me. I don't want them seeing me. I just want to be alone. Sometimes I eat the food. Sometimes I can't bring myself to swallow it. There have been times when I've been violently sick sitting there trying to eat some form of mushy food I have no name for. There have been times too when I've crawled under the table and curled my arms around my head and make noises which I can only imagine. At times like this they pull me out and they take me back to my room and I can see their mouths moving but I can't understand what they're saying.

They tried writing things down for me to see if I could read it and sometimes I understand the words and sometimes I don't and I want to give them a vocal reply…I need them to know I'm here and that I exist but they seem as deaf as I am when I attempt to talk to me. They've asked me what my name is and I can't remember. They've asked me what the year is and I can't remember that either so I shake my head and wish they'd leave me alone. I wish they'd just bring on the night time and let me live there forever. One time they wrote down on a bit of paper _Where are you getting the drugs from? _And that really does give them a blank look. I have no idea what they mean by that. The only drugs I have in my system are the ones they force me to take. I did think at first that I'd be safe now. That the horror of what happened was over but that feeling as gone now and has been replaced by a lethargy so big and all encompassing that most days I can't get out of my bed without assistance. Once, but it only happened the once I was so aware of everything that I was sure that I must have smacked my head in the forest one time too many and killed myself. Or maybe I'm insane.

Right now it's dark. It's a pale scratchy darkness which isn't really dark and not really light. The moon is big again it castes shadows over the floor and makes inky dark areas where anything could be hiding. I watch those places. I keep my eyes locked on them until I can sense that I am being watched. I know I am. It's not my imagination. Over there in the corner he always sits in, there he is watching and waiting. I wonder why he doesn't help me. I think about calling him over to me. I want to touch him and hold him. I want him to touch and hold me while I'm awake, but I don't. I'm too afraid that if I make that sort of contact with him that he'll be gone. It will break the magic spell holding him there. I stay with my face turned towards him until my eyes drift shut and I finally fall asleep.

I have wonderful dreams!

I am free.

I am with Floyd and we are sitting next to a brook in the forest. His sudden movement catches me unawares as he quickly moves around so he is sitting on my lap with a leg either side of my hips and his hands on my shoulders.

'Lay down.'

And I feel the pressure of his hands pushing me back. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm playing games. Lay down for me babes.'

And he pushes harder onto my shoulders and I fall back into the fall leaves. I watch as he sits on me and pulls something from his pocket. 'Something to make you feel better.' He tells me as he blows a greyish powder in my face. Some of it goes up my nose and makes my eyes water and some is stuck to the sweaty skin of my face. Floyd leans down and slowly starts to lick it away. 'Sleep babes. Things will get better. I just need time.' Then he moves to my side and wraps arms around me and whispers something in my ear. 'Don't let the fire go out.'

-o-o-o-

Case number five seven nine zero one zero WL

Subject: Adult male. Caucasian. Deaf. Age approximately twenty five. Name unknown. Low IQ but unable to test accurately. Probably having psychotic episodes. Alert Red:

Suspected absconder from institution.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3 Second Round

Second Round.

* * *

Theresa blinked once as the bullet made a neat little hole between her blue eyes. Not twice, just the once. She was seen to fall backwards and land in her brains which had splattered on the floor behind her. She didn't make a noise. She didn't have time to even ask his name. A small camera was brought out of a green pocket and a few clicks later it was replaced back in that pocket and then a booted foot kicked her legs to the side and the door was pulled shut and the little door catch made a small clicking sound which Theresa didn't hear, but probably the person with the blue gloved hand did.

It was the next day and in a town just over the hill that Charlotte opened her door to the mail man. Charlotte blinked too and her mouth dropped open in surprise but she still didn't have time to call out for help. Not that there was anyone else in the house to help her anyway. Charlotte just stood with her mouth open and she maybe stood there with that expression of shock on her face for a full three seconds after her brains – like Theresa's - were splattered onto her hard wood flooring behind her. She was also moved slightly out of the way – after she was photographed - and what was left of the back of her head made squishing noises as it slid over the mess on the floor and she still looked sort of shocked. She probably always will do.

If you stood on that hill which divided those two little houses and the bodies they held you'd be able to look over the small valley and see a twinkling little river with a smart stone bridge going over it. You'd also see the outskirts of a big house with big grounds and big security guards. The UnSub stood under a tree with a gun in his jacket pocket and looked at the tall wall surrounding the property. He could from where he was standing just about make out the fine electric gates and if he had stood there for maybe thirty minutes longer he'd have seen them slowly swing open and a long dark car with dark windows pull smoothly out of the driveway and move down the road towards that fine smart red brick bridge over the small river at a pace which made it look like the person driving that car had all the time in the world. He might have even seen that one of the rear passenger windows was open just a tiny crack, but maybe not. Perhaps he would have been too far away to see that small detail and it might have even been on the wrong side of the car. It doesn't really matter because the UnSub with the gun in one pocket and a silencer in the other had gone by then. He'd gone back to his own small insignificant looking car and his own small boring world with a small satisfied smile on his face. He let of a small 'huk huk huk' sound which was how this UnSub laughed and he drove away.

Gert Arrowman was an international man of mystery. He originated from somewhere in Europe and spoke with a slight Germanic accent, but not always and only when he was very pissed off. Today was a day when Gert Arrowman was speaking with more than a small trace of his ancestry. He had though lived in America since he was a teenager and was an American citizen. It annoyed him that people asked him where he came from. He didn't want to have to explain such things. Those sort of things hardly mattered when you made your living from Porn and drugs and well anything which came his way and was a bit illegal. Gert, who was six foot and a full seven inches tall had short cropped almost white blonde hair. He liked to keep fit but not as much as he liked to watch or produce porn or take drugs or sell them. He was really an all round typical bad guy who had made his fortune being a bit of a rotten bastard but that didn't stop him from shouting out in anger and throwing a bit of a tantrum when his mail was delivered the day after he'd been out for a ride into the country in his car –which had been driven by an old time friend called Spanky.

He demanded that the police where called and this was probably the first time in his life he'd ever done that. He hadn't bonded very well with the local law enforcement agencies, but today he shouted for someone to get them to his place now. His short dark haired skinny assistant suggested that maybe calling the police there was not such a good idea and had he gone completely mad? But none the less that's what happened. Officers Jones – who was reaching retirement age, and his partner Officer Snelling stood in the hallway of Gert's home and asked him what the problem was. They were handed an envelope and told that the problem was in side and he then looked down on the two officers and suggested they 'Put some fucking gloves on your morons.' And they did, but not because Gert Arrowman international man of mystery told them to. What they were looking at was the faces of two dead women.

'What the hell is this?' Jones stared at the picture of Theresa.

'That's Topsy one of my top performers.' He snapped back 'And the other is Deep Throat Charlie. I paid them bitches a lot and someone's topped them both and sent me those happy snap shots and this message.' He flipped a bit of paper at them. 'My fingerprints were all over it before I knew what it was. What it was, was a short typed message. 'SOoN' was all it said.

Jones and Snelling had a quiet behind their hands conference which lasted about a minute and then Jones told Mr Arrowman that it might be best if he stayed at home for a while and did he have the addresses for these ladies? He also told Gert not to worry. 'We will catch whoever has done this.'

Gert snorted a sort of not very convinced laughter and turned and walked away.

This though is why the FBI were eventually called in and the international man of mystery was a long way from being pleased about it.

-o-o-o-

They wanted to know where this strange quiet man had got drugs from. They sat on plastic chairs in a meeting room and looked down at the notes they had made. As it seemed their guest couldn't communicate with anyone it was a total mystery as to where he was getting drugs from. Someone suggested that the young man maybe wasn't drugged but maybe he was just withdrawn, but drug test results came back and confirmed that their guest was indeed drugged to his pretty eyeballs.

'No wonder the guy is acting the way he is.' Someone commented.

And people muttered under their breaths and tried to work out how this could have happened and it seemed to have happened more than once. They checked back their previous notes on the guest and flicked back the pages in their folders and they bit bottom lips and scratched at their necks and just looked puzzled.

'We don't even know his name.' Someone said. 'And as far as we know he's not talked to anyone. He's not bonded with any staff members. There seems to be not much going on in his brain at all. How the hell is he managing to make drug deals with people in much the same condition as he is?'

They muttered amongst themselves about this. If this was to get out – if the media ever found out about this – if he ever became lucid enough to tell anyone, then they would be in serious trouble.

'I want him watched. Never left alone. I want all the non medical staff kept away from him. Janitors and such. Keep them away. Keep the alert on red and don't that that man out of your sight. I need this sorted. Strip his room down. Actually move him to another room; no another ward. Stop whatever is going on here. I won't have this place brought into disrepute because of this man. If it comes to it we'll move him. Anything…just stop this happening again.'

The all looked over to their slightly over weight balding panicking boss and nodded and then they stood up and left the room.

-o-o-o-

They're not happy with me I can tell that much, but I don't know why. I can see their mouths moving and I can see the sharp looks they are giving me, but nothing makes sense. I've been moved. They took me down the familiar corridor I knew and through locked doors and down another corridor and took me to a room. It's almost the same as the one I'd left but the window is in a different wall. I wonder if this means I won't be able to have the light from the moon now but it's too early in the day to tell yet. They leave me there and close the door and so I lie on my bed and curl up wishing it was night time. Wishing for the eyes in the shadowy corners and the dreams.

I'm remembering things. At first flashes of images and then the images started moving. Some made me feel sick and uncomfortable and some made me feel sad and very lonely. Yet there they were; fuzzy and out of focus faces talking to me and smiling at me and I recognised them. I must have fallen asleep, but I don't remember having a dream, but suddenly something wakes me up. I loud buzzing in my ears. I let out a little yelp of surprise and I can hear that too and that horrible silent and murky place I'd been in slowly slides away from me.

-o-o-o-

I visit Flanders again and sit next to him and watch as he slowly turns his head to face me. I can see it immediately. Something has changed. I can't say exactly what it is, but he seems different. Maybe it's his eyes? I'm really not sure and I don't think that someone who hasn't been sitting with him talking to him and watching his reactions would even notice it, but I have. He seems to be there. A small smirk twitches across his face. He knows I have seen the change and he's letting me know that he knows this.

'How are you feeling?' I don't really know what else to say yet. Not until I know how alert he is.

'I'm feeling good Agent David Rossi. I just love being strapped down and drugged. Why don't you join me? We can have a totally insane party.'

He doesn't look drugged. That's what is different. I wonder if they've changed his medication. I wonder if they've remembered to give him his meds today and I wonder how safe it is for me to be sitting here with him. 'It's nice to hear you talking.' Is what I actually say to him though.

'Oh I've been talking all along Dave – you don't mind me calling you Dave do you? – You just weren't listening to me.' He turns his head and looks towards the door. 'They don't know what they're dealing with Dave. Do you?' He turns back to look at me. 'Ask your questions. I'm ready for them now. You can't keep a good man down for long Dave, and it seems that goes for me too. Interesting don't you think?'

I decide to plough right in with the question we all – the team – need an answer to. 'What did you do to Reid?' He looks at me for a short while, maybe a full minute before turning his head away from me and looking at the wall.

'Why do you all assume I've done something to Spencer?'

'You were the last person he was seen with. That is why we've made such assumptions Flanders. Can you look at me please?' Slowly he turns back to face me.

'I'm not the last person he was with Dave. You have the wrong information there.'

I rub my hand over my beard and keep talking to him. 'You know what happened to him. Where is he Flanders? What have you done with him?'

'I've cared for him Dave. I've done all I can. I think he's on his own now in that respect. Go find him if you're so interested in where he is. He's out there. Go look a bit harder.' He licks his lips. 'You think I killed him and left him to rot in the forest don't you?'

I give him a small nod even though I didn't want to admit that was what I was thinking.

'I've not hurt him. I would never hurt Spencer. He's been in a grey dark silent place for a long time, but I think he's crawling his way out again; metaphorically speaking of course.'

'Stop talking in riddles Flanders. Just tell me what happened. You got off the train. What happened after that?'

'How much detail do you require Dave? Do you want the tiny details of our journey or just the end result of it?'

'I want you to start at the end and work your way back.' At least that way I will know what happened. Flanders might not be talking next time I visit.

'I can't do that. There is no end. It's still going on.'

More damned riddles. 'Start with the last time you were with Reid.'

'Physically?'

I'm not exactly sure what he means by that but I nod anyway. Let's see where this leads us to.

'We made camp. I made camp; Spencer sat and watched. It happened a while ago though, I'm not sure of the exact order of things. I was going to show him how to forage for food. I showed him how to cook a fish over the fire.' He pauses. 'But something went wrong and…Well things get confusing from that point onwards. I didn't hurt him Dave. Why would I go to all the trouble of taking him up there and then leave him to die? I'd not do that. Well actually I might, but I didn't. We'd not gotten to where I wanted to take him. We'd not finished our adventure. If I was going to kill him I would have taken him home to do that. He's reasonably safe now though. I can maybe help him one more time but really I shouldn't. I'm going to get myself into a whole load of shit if I do too much. I'm already more than pissed off at the situation Spencer has put me in here.'

'What went wrong? Did someone get hurt? Was there an accident?'

'Fuck no. My princess messed things up. She's to blame for any pain Spencer has been going through if you want to put blame on someone that is.'

'Flanders, I'm going to stop our talk here and I want you to sort your head out and I'll return tomorrow, then you will try to talk to me without the riddles. I want straight answers to my questions. I could help you here. I could get you transferred if you are willing to give us the information we need.' I stand up and he turns his face back to the wall again.

'Fuck you Dave. Today is your last chance and I advise you don't tell the bastards out there that you've been having a nice little chat with me cos with all this shit in my system that really wouldn't be possible. Our little secret OK? I think you need to go before I show you what else I'm able to do here. See you around Dave and if you really want to find Spencer you need to check out hospitals in the north east of this damned stinking pit of a country. You start looking there but be quick Dave…pretty soon it's going to be too late and you'd have lost your man again and I just know how much that will hurt Aaron and Penelope. I don't think they'd cope with being so close and him slipping from your fingers again.' He smiles at me as I go to the door. 'Goodbye Dave. I'm sure we'll meet again. Have a drink maybe, or go to that party. Drive carefully, there's some mad bastards out there.'

-o-o-o-

I watch him leave and wonder if he actually listened to anything I said or if he just thinks I'm full of shit. He'll find out soon. Today will be my last day here. I've been in lengthy discussions with my boss, so to speak, and we've come to some sort of agreement. I'm not sure if I'm surprised or not. One minute they are smacking me back down into place and showing me what's what and the next they're loosening my reins again, and though this isn't a "Go do what you want" situation, it is certainly "Go do what you do best" one, and I'm good with that. I've formulated a little plan in my head. I've decided that for once I will make a plan and I'll stick by it rather than running along and not knowing what's coming up until it smacks me in the face. So here's my plan: Tonight I leave this place and that isn't a problem. Him upstairs, or downstairs, wherever the hell he is will sort thing out on that front, though I did say I could just eat my way out, I think he felt that would be detrimental to the rest of my plan. Not that I had a plan then, but I didn't inform him of that. Right, I walk out of this place and then….well that's when I get stuck…I'm not really too good at making plans unless they involve fucking with Spencer's head, but as that seems to have been done already I shall have to move on to my next target. I was thinking of Emily at first, but something made me decide that Hotchner is going to be much more fun to shit on. I messed pretty good with his head already, just a few more twists I think and he'll be out of the picture. Morgan then after that. Now this is one I'm going to have to think carefully about. I could just screw him, but I don't fancy doing that. He's just not my type at all. I think smacking him around to start with will be good. Take that tough man image away from him. Give him a nasty disease some how. I'm sure I can find some STD ridden whore who would play a game with me for enough money. Then I'm going to have to see where we go from there. Maybe the death of his family. Maybe; I'll consider that when I've done other things. Then we have Dave Rossi, well to be honest I don't have a fucking clue how to get to him. His mind is so defended that there's no way I can read what's going on up there. I'm going to have to play that one by ear, but to be honest if I can take down Hotchner and Prentiss and Morgan, surely that's the BAU gone? I'll have to report in and find out when the time comes. Then there's the newbies. Do they want them gone too? I don't think they'll work without the others.

Penelope. I have something for her too and I'm quite looking forward to it.

-o-o-o-

My week has been interesting. Aaron has been coming to see me every day and I've sulked and had tantrums but he still comes back for more. I wasn't sure what he was after at first. I offered to blow him and he ignored me so I guess that's not what he's after. I can honestly say that it is entirely his loss there. Anyway today my bags are packed and I'm sitting in an office and Aaron is there too and he's signing papers and the hospital people are looking unsure of what's going on but it looks like I'm going. Not sure _where _I'm going, but going somewhere other than here. That's got to be good hasn't it? It really has to be better than being locked up here. I freaking well hope it's going to be better anyway! We walk out of the facility side by side. Almost like father and son, except he's not my dad. My dad would have accepted a blow job for a start.

'Where're we going?' He's carrying my few bags in his hands as we walk towards his big black car.

'Talk about it in the car Sam.'

I'm not sure if that's good or bad and suddenly I want to be back in the facility where I knew at least some of what's going on. I sit down on a small bench which is on a grass bank next to the parking lot and Aaron comes over and sits down next to me. 'Something's wrong?' He's talking to me like I'm a kid and suddenly I feel like a kid. Suddenly I feel confused and pissed off with everyone and everything.

'I'm just fed up with being dragged around and never having any choices you know? I seem to have spent my whole damned life not knowing what's coming next or where we're going. I'd just like choices occasionally. I'd like some input into what's going on in my life. I want some control over it. I'm fed up with this Aaron. I want to know where we're going and why I'm not still in that place. I want to decide my own future and for people to quit deciding it for me.' I pile on a bit of emotional stuff now. 'I want to feel safe. I want to know no one's going to be sticking needles in me and I want to know I'm not going to get slapped around. I need to be able to lay in my bed and night and not be afraid to close my eyes and sleep. They come for you when your defences are down. I need to be able to relax and know I won't get splayed out on the ground and raped cos I didn't keep my mind aware. I want a day without the threat of being shot or stabbed. I need to know there will be food for me if I'm hungry. I want to be able to do things kids of my age usually do.' I take a sobbing breath. 'I just want to go home.' And I end my tirade with a long shuddering sigh.

At first he says nothing and this sort of worries me a bit. Have I said too much? Then he rests a hand on mine.

'I can't promise you life will be fantastic Sam. No one can. I can tell you that you're coming home with me. I don't know how this is going to work out and you will have someone keeping an eye on you when I'm at work. I can promise you that I'll never hurt you Sam. I can't do more than that. I'm giving you a chance. Don't let me down.' He gives my hand a small squeeze of reassurance. 'And you'll be attending school. I know you're not going to like that, but it was part of the condition of getting you out of that place.'

'School? Why do I need school?' I turn slightly damp eyes at my hero rescuer.

'At least try it. Mixing with people your own age. It will be good Sam. You will learn a lot from watching them if not from your tutors.'

I nibble on my bottom lip and nod at him. 'And if I don't like your place? If I'm not happy, then what?'

'Then we decide together what the problem is and we try to sort it out. No secrets, no drugs, just talking and trying to understand the problems.'

'No slapping me around?'

'Absolutely not.'

'Not even if I fuck up?'

'We all make mistakes Sam. It's how we learn not to do it again.'

I'm happy with that. I think this might just work out.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4 Aces High Jokers Wild

Aces High. Jokers Wild.

* * *

They brought me something to eat and placed it on the bed next to me. I looked down at the sandwich and little pot of green jello and sighed. They were keeping me away from the little bit of contact I'd been having. Not that I socialised but it was faces and now I could hear voices too, but for now I kept that little bit of information to myself. I didn't feel like talking to these people and as I was still having confusing thoughts racing around in my head I decided to stay silent.

My brain feels so muddled. It's as though all my thoughts and memories have been mixed up together out of order and out of context with each other. Slowly they are pulling back together but it's taking time. I know I shouldn't be feeling this confused and I could ask them what's going on and why they've moved me and why I am being kept away from other people, but I don't. Of course I don't. That would be too easy now wouldn't it? What I need to do is wait until night time and see if the eyes have followed me.

They leave me with the bits of food and a papery cup of juice and close and lock the door behind me. The sandwich which turned out to have tuna in it got nibbled around the edges. The jello placed out of the way on the floor and the drink, well I drank the juice and then I lay on the bed and waited until night time with a slight panic drifting through me so gently that I didn't even realise it was there at first. I didn't notice the rocking movements I was making, but I could eventually hear the strange noises coming from right deep down inside me. A sound I think only I could hear and it was the sound of fear.

I must have fallen asleep. I seem to spend a lot of my spare time doing that. I wake up when I feel a hand touching the side of my face and I slowly open my eyes. The room is dark but the person with me is silhouetted against the moonlight which happily is coming through the window. I know that shape and moreover I know that smell.

'Shhhh.' He tells me. 'We have to be quick and we have to be quiet.' And a finger makes its way over my lips. 'Come on sleepy head.'

I open my mouth to say something but a hand is quickly placed over my lips to stop me. I nod slowly to let him know I understand I must remain silent and the hand goes and moves down to my arm.

'Come with me.'

And he starts pulling me off the bed. Again I want to ask what's going on and how he got here, but the fingers digging in my arm remind me not to talk; not yet. I will ask my questions later. He half drags me to the door and quickly he opens it and guides me out into a dimly lit corridor. We walk along in total silence. It's as though my hearing has gone again. I can't even hear my own breaths let alone the booted steps of Floyd. He leads me through the doors which I'm sure should be locked and then we start moving with more speed down a flight of stairs. We moved fast and without making a sound until we were at ground floor level and then still gripping my arm he turns to look at me and in the reddish emergency lighting he looks strange and almost demonic but he gives me a quick smile. He leans forward towards me.

'Nearly out.'

I can feel his lips brush against my ear and it sends a rush of adrenaline through my body and I feel a sudden need an urgency to get away from him but the only place I have to go is back where I just came from and that's not what I want to do. I think he knows what I'm thinking because the fingers grip me even harder, his fingernails digging into my skin through my hospital pyjamas.

'Trust me.'

Again the whisper in my ear and again I feel that rush pass through me.

We exit via a side door which he closes behind him as he finally lets go of my arm and then turns to look at me. 'Don't thank me yet babes. We need to be quick.' And his hands go to my shoulders and then work their way down my arms to my hands. 'This way.' And now he holds one of my hands and takes me towards the shadows and there sitting waiting for us is a big black bike. 'It's not mine. I borrowed it. Get on.'

I've still not said a word to him and I feel as though I'm in some kind of weird dream. I don't feel able to not do as he asks. If right now he handed me a gun and told me to shoot myself I would. I shake my head trying to either wake up or rid myself of this odd feeling as I move to the bike and do as I've been told.

'Hold tight.'

And I wrap my arms around him as he kicks the bike into action and we move off quickly out of the deep darkness and onto the tarmac road with leads out of this place.

I don't remember the journey apart from the memory of the wind and the cold and the smell of Flanders as I rest my head on his back. At which point I fell asleep I don't know. I'm not sure even if it was sleep or if he took me somewhere into his own world where time skips and moves forward and backward at it's own pace. I really have no idea but the next thing I remember is lying in my own bed back at my apartment. I can feel his arms around me and I can smell his strange musky odour and I can feel his fingers lightly moving over my chest.

'Floyd?'

'Who else would it be?'

The hands stop moving.

'I wasn't questioning whether or not it was you.'

The hands move away from me.

'I'd hope not. I have to go. Stay here for a few days. Sort your head out Spence and then let people know you're here. Let them know you are safe.'

'Where are you going?'

I feel him sit up in the bed and move away so he's not in physical contact with me.

'I have things I need to do. I shouldn't be here.'

He gets up and starts moving across the room and I follow him with my eyes but I don't move from the bed. 'Please come back.'

'Please? You are begging me? I don't have time to fuck you now Spence. It's been a long trip and I'm behind on my tasks. I have to go.'

Now I sit up. 'I wasn't asking you to err…'

'To fuck you.' He finishes for me. 'You can say it you know. It's not a bad thing to want. It doesn't make you dirty or less of a man Spence.'

Now I sit up and pull the sheet over my naked body. 'I just….'

Again he cuts me off. 'I don't have time to talk to you. I have to go. Just needed to make sure you woke and knew where you were and stuff.' He walks to the bedroom door where he turns to look at me. He looks tired. He looks different. Maybe stressed or depressed? I don't know. I don't think I have a memory of him looking quite like he does now.

'You will come back though? When you've sorted things?' I stand pulling the sheet with me and wrapping it around myself and start walking towards him.

'I don't know. I really don't know Spence. Go back to bed. You look tired. You need to rest. Sort yourself out babes or have a shower.'

'I don't understand. You take me away, you leave me to rot in the forest, then you come and help me and now you've brought me home. What's going on Floyd?'

As I take steps towards him he moves back. 'I guess I just had to make sure you were OK. Things didn't quite work out as expected. I'd say _sorry _but you know how much I dislike that word.' He turns his back on me and walks towards the main exit door.

'I need you to tell me you're coming back again.' I feel a slight panic welling up inside me.

'I don't know how to tell you this Spence.' He's reached the door and pulling back the locks and then turns to look at me standing wrapped in a crumpled bed sheet.

'Tell me what?' I can feel that rush of panic increasing.

'You're dumped.' And he turns and opens the door and is gone before I can even think of how to respond.

-o-o-o-

Sam and I had a long talk; a very long talk. It started with:

'I don't want to go to fucking school.'…

As he sat with his feet up on the couch pulling what can only be described as a spiteful look.

'Try to curb your language. What are you doing with your hands? Sam please don't do that. You have to go to school. Believe me if you were staying somewhere else you'd likely be boarding at a school so you should be thanking me. Hands Sam.'

'I don't need a damned education. I know all I need to know.'

'Sam!' His head snaps up from what he is looking at and he frowns at me. 'Your hands. Stop.' And for now at least he does. 'To get on in life as an adult you need your qualifications down on paper. You need to sit exams. You can't just walk through life with nothing to back you up.' He shakes his head at me.

'I don't need no fu….stupid qualifications Aaron! Not for what I'm going to do. I can count and I can read and that's all I need to be able to do.'

His hands go back to resting on his lap but at least now they are still. 'And what exactly is it you plan on doing Sam? What do you see your self doing in say twenty years time?'

'Twenty years? I'll be dead by then I expect. I plan on having a short but exciting life Aaron. No sitting around taking exams for crap I have no need for in life.'

I give him a curious look. 'How will you live an exciting life Sam? What have you got planned? You need money to do things and to get money you need to have a job.'

'Oh I know that. Look, look at yourself. You've got a good education. You did the college stuff yes? You have a wonderfully exciting job and a nice place to live, but look at you; you're as miserable a cold fart. You've got nothing except that job and I don't want to grow up to be like you. I don't want all this shit. Therefore I don't need to go to school.'

'So tell me what you're going to do which only requires math and reading?'

'Porn and drugs. I have it all planned. I'm a good talker and good at persuading people to do what I want. Seems logical to me. Get there do the stuff get high or drunk and get paid for it.'

I just sit and look at him. To be honest I don't know if he's serious or not. 'You might be better off thinking of something else to do and believe me Sam even that line of work requires education. You need to be able to keep up with things properly. How are you I.T. skills?'

'I don't want to work with computers.' His hands are shifting in his lap again. I try real hard to keep my attention on his face and off the boy's groin.

'You need to know how they work though. You need to know how to upload your porn Sam. You need to know how to do direct links and not get caught. You need to be able to follow the market for the drugs you want to sell.'

'Fucking don't!' And he's on his feet now. 'I don't want to go to a stupid school and I don't want a bloody baby sitter when you're not around. I'm sixteen for fuck's sake. I'm not a damned kid. I'm old enough to be left alone. This is like a damned prison!'

I watch as he paces. It's a horrible sickening feeling I get when I watch him. He reminds me too much of Flanders and I don't want him to be squeezing at my mind like this and forcing me to watch him the way I am. I pull my eyes away from him and rub at them with my fingertips. 'You need to learn to socialise with your peers and get along with other people. You have to learn how to do that Sam. All business men do whatever line of work they are in.'

I hear the sigh and _flump_ as he throws himself back onto the couch. 'And what if I hate it?'

'Then you come to me and we discuss it and try to work things out.'

'And what if you're away and I'm with the stupid baby sitter?'

'Then you talk to him about it.'

'And what if the baby sitter is the problem? Then what do I do?'

I sigh. 'I will give you a telephone number you can always contact me by if there is an emergency.'

'I don't want to go to fucking school though! And a special school? For retards?'

'A special school for children who find normal schools a challenge. Not because of the IQ but because of behaviour.'

He gives me a questioning look. 'Not retards? OK…I'll give it a go, but if I hate it I'm not going back.'

'If you hate it then we will talk about it.'

'And you won't send me back.'

'We will discuss it.'

'And you will ignore me and send me back.'

'I didn't say that.' He's standing up again and I watch as he walks towards to door leading out of the room and into the hallway.

'I'll be in my room socialising with myself. Knock before you come in.'

I close my eyes and lean back on the couch. This isn't going to be as easy as I thought it would be. I'm wondering if Dave was right when he told me to back away from this.

-o-o-o-

I know he was watching me. I know his eyes were peeping at my hands and I know when I was walking around he was watching my butt. He thinks of me as a little kid. He has a lot to learn. Everyone has got a lot to learn. I've switched on the TV there is in my room and search the channels for something stimulating to watch but there's nothing. He's blocked all the adult channels. What a bastard. He has however given me a crappy laptop to use so I grab that and google search for some porn on there. I don't need much, just some nice images to get my mind off having to socialise at school. I'm not going to show my ignorance by not understanding what that actually entails. I'll find out soon enough. For now though while I click through the web pages coming up here I think about how I'm going to use the situation for my own good. Kids with behaviour problems. Little shits. I'm going to be ok there. I'll have them eating out of the palm of my hand in exchange for….

For…

Sorry…have to go.

Oh man.

-o-o-o-

I have things I need to do. I've bent the rules too much as it is already. I don't know why I'm still standing in the hallway outside Spencer's apartment. I should be going. I have to see other people and I have to keep away from this place. I turn and look at his door and I can still see where I dug my nails into the wood once. It feels like a life time ago I did that and I suppose in a way it is. So why am I running my fingers lightly over those marks now? Why do I have a dreadful urge to go back in there and take what I know is mine. I don't want him to know I'm here just standing not knowing what to do. I don't want him to open the door and see me looking like this. I feel, quite frankly, like shit. For years he's all I've thought about, OK nearly all I've thought about and I'm not going to find it easy to just stop and move on. I close my eyes and rest my head on the cold wood of his door and wonder what he's doing. I could take a look. I could slip into his head and know what he's doing, but that's one of the things I've been told to stop doing. No more contact and that classes as contact even if he doesn't know I'm there monitoring him the others will and I can't afford to do more than step away and block him out.

There are too many things I need to do. Places to go. People to see and destroy. I need to concentrate on that and once that's complete maybe they will let me have Spencer back again. Finally it's dawned on me why I wanted him gone from my memory in the first place. The boy is a distraction I can do without.

They offered me money. They said they would see me good for that, but then they changed their minds. They said if I can break rules then they can too. I guess I can see what they mean there, but maybe I'd not have agreed to this task in the first place if I'd known how low down they were going to make me crawl. Slowly I move from his doorway and make my way out of the apartment complex. I brush my fingers over the button by the outside entrance with his number by it. A final farewell maybe and now I have to decide on whom to visit first.

One of the problems I now have is that they are looking for me. I'm a wanted man and so I have to avoid trouble, which isn't something I find too easy to do. When you've spent so many years doing what you want when you want, then having to curb that is tricky. The first example I that crosses me is that I cannot use the bike I nicked; I'll have to walk. I won't be able to metabolise crap in my system either. They let me do that to get out but now I'm stuck with an almost normal body. Only almost though. Not quite. My shortcuts and secret ways have been blocked too and I feel bloody hungry but have no money. In the past they have either provided for me or I've picked a few pockets, but that is one of the things I'm going to have to stop doing. I make a decision and start walking in the direction I need to go in.

Not sure you know…I'm not sure how this is going to work out. I was expecting, when I agreed to this that I'd have at least something to help me out, but I've nothing except my own handy dandy brain power and my body. One of those will help me get Hotchner and my body? Well that will help me get cash if Hotchner lets me down.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5 Three Card Brag

Three Card Brag

* * *

I can hear voices. I'm really not sure but I swear that it sounds like my dad. I get up off the bed and pull my clothes back on and wander to my bedroom door and stand to listen. I wanted to be certain that it was dad and now I am. I can hear hushed but angry words coming from Aaron and dad. They don't want me to hear what's going on. They don't want me to know dad is there. As I clip my dungaree straps back into place I wonder if he's come to get me. Would he do that? Would he come to take me back to the others? I don't think so. I really don't think they'd want me back for starters and secondly I don't think they'd choose dad to come get me. It would be Louis and that voice is definitely dad and not that bastard who threw the baby at me. I place my hand on the big shiny door handle and wonder if I should show my face or just go back to the bed and sulk for a while longer. The decision is made when I see I've already opened the door. Walking with quick silent footsteps I walk down the short hallway of this apartment Aaron now lives in and step out into the bigger area by the lounge.

'Dad?'

My voice is not much more than a whisper. He doesn't look like the bastard who's so full of confidence he might just pop. This looks like a worn down shadow of the person I know.

'Go back to your room Sam.' Aaron's voice. That wasn't a request. He is telling me to leave.

'I think he should stay actually.' My dad says, but he doesn't move. He's just standing there looking at me with an almost blank expression on his face.

'Sam please go back to your room.' Hotchner again.

'Why?' I can feel something is very wrong. Dad's not here for me I can tell that much and I can feel a strange sort of electricity flowing through the small area we are all standing in. Me facing them both with Aaron standing behind my dad; close behind him – too close. I decide to take a step forward.

'Agent Hotchner is about to put a bullet through the back of my head Sam. I don't think he wants you to see.' I take another step towards him. 'Agent Hotchner I really think that taking my head off with that round you have ready in your pistol shouldn't be done in front of a child. I think you should calm down and let me talk to you.'

I just watch them. That is what I can feel. I can feel dad's fear and that's not something I think I've ever felt before. It's a strange tickly sensation making the hairs on my hands and arms stand to attention. I can see the look on Aaron's face. It's a hard non compromising look of hate. I'm sure had I not walked in on them right now dad's brains would be all over the wall in front of him.

'Well this is a nice situation.' I finally say as I walk around to the side to see if Aaron has in fact got a gun to dad's head; oh and indeed he does. 'I've not even spent one night here and you're going to kill someone in front of me. I think child services will have something to say about that don't you? What the hell do you think you're playing at? Both of you? What in the name of all that is damned are you doing here? I look at dad who is raising an eyebrow at me. 'And why did you pull a gun on him? What the hell's gotten into you both? You're behaving like kids! I thought I was the kid here. Put the gun away Aaron, you have no intention of using it. You'd have shot him already if you had.' Hotchner is watching me too now.

'Go back to your room Sam.' He says, but I can see the pressure of the gun against the back of dad's head has lessened and the tight grip he had on it has gone.

'I don't want to go back to my room! What for? So you two can smack each other around again? Do you both think that's the way to behave? Can't you just talk it out between you?' Yes I know I'm talking crap but it seems to have defused the situation slightly.

-o-o-o-

Sam, my little life saver. I thought I could smell him when I was yanked through the door and pulled to this pit of a hallway. I could smell my spawn, but I thought it was just a transfer odour coming from Hotchner. I put my arms out to my boy and smile at him.

'Come here.' I tell him. And of course he does as I tell him and walks into my awaiting arms. I greet him with a smart kiss on his sweet mouth and hold him close for a short while. Maybe a bit too close, but he's my spawn. He's mine. He's me. I know what I like. 'I'd like you to go to your room now Sam.' I tell him. Maybe my mouth is a bit too close to his. Perhaps my tongue touched his lips when I licked mine. I feel him press his little child's body against mine. I'm sure I was more, I don't know; physically mature, at his age. He seems small and fragile and childish. I'm certain by the time I'd reached his age I was looking older than I was. Sam looks about fourteen though. Ah well…no matter. 'Your room Sam.' I tell him again. 'I need to talk things over with Hotchner here.'

He pulls slightly away from me and gives me a small shake of the head. 'I'm staying. He'll kill you if I go again. Or you'll kill him.'

Hotchner has now moved right back away from me and that small, very small feeling that I'd fucked up by coming here dissipates and drifts away as quickly as lust begins to fill my mind and body; blood flowing quickly to places I don't want it to right now making me feel light headed. 'Sam. Your room now!' And I follow this up with a slap around his face and I didn't hold back either. I need him gone. I need to think and he's suddenly become a dreadful distraction and not one I'm going to be able to explain away very swiftly. I see the look on Sam's face; that look of surprise and pain and for the love of the gods of fucking Pluto it makes my head spin even more and now that sly sneaky look on his face has told me clearly that he knows. He knows exactly what's going on in my mind even if I don't.

'I'm staying.' He mutters at me and moves slowly not taking his eyes off me and sits himself on the couch.

I turn to Hotchner, now the reason I came here in the first place is forgotten. 'Why is my boy here with you?' I snap at him. He moves slowly back and sits down on a big arm chair.

'He had no one else.'

I try not to look at Sam sitting there with his hands resting in his lap.

'He's got me.'

'No Flanders. He hasn't got you.'

'Well maybe I was an absent parent for a while….'

'A fucking long while.' Sam broke in.

'For a short while…Maybe, but it's going to change now. He can come with me.' I lick my lips and keep my eyes firmly on Hotchner.

'He's staying here. He's going to school. He's going to get an education.' Hotchner informs me.

'Wonderful. My spawn is adducted by a FED. Is this some kind of twisted revenge?' I want a drink. I have to have a drink now. I need to feel that sensation of alcohol running through my blood and that needs to be now. 'I need a drink. Who's going to look after Sam when you're working, when you're away on the other side of the country? Who is caring for him then?'

'I've thought of that.' Hotchner has answers but he doesn't seem willing to share them with me.

'Great I'm glad you've thought of it, care to share?' I'm looking around the room for his whiskey. I know he has some. I can smell it. I can feel it tickling at the back of my nose demanding that I find it.

'I don't need to share my care plans with you Flanders.'

I wave a "fuck off I'm thinking" hand at Hotchner and walk towards a cabinet against the pale yellow walls. 'I need a drink and I will care for Sam when you're not here. Cancel whatever arrangements you made.' I open the door of the cabinet and see my prize. I lift the bottle and a tumbler and go and sit on the edge of the coffee table.

'I have made arrangements which do not include you and will never include you.' He's watching as I pour out the drink.

'Did you need a drop too Agent Aaron Hotchner? Sam? You want a drink boy?' They both shake their heads but Sam speaks.

'I like the idea that dad can look after me as well. You know it will be a bit like when you see Jack.'

Sam's a marvel, he really is. I glance at him quickly and then I'm looking at Hotchner again and he really doesn't look too pleased with what is going on here.

'I don't really think that you're father will be able to care for you Sam. He is a very busy guy.' I see Hotchner's eyes narrow at me, daring me to contradict his statement.

I smile at him and give a quick nod followed by a long drink of his expensive amber liquid. 'You know Sam, he might be right there. I do have a shit load of crap I have to get done and having you hanging around might just piss me off. Who's going to be caring for him when you're not here?' Do I really give a shit? No I don't, but as this is the subject we are on right now and the gun isn't being pointed at my head I think I'll keep it here for a while.

'As I said, I have it sorted out.'

Hotchner really is being tight lipped about all this shit and I don't like it. I like to know what's going on. 'And this person can be trusted?'

'Yes he can.'

I take another long drink and sigh as I feel it going straight to my head. This is another thing I'm going to have to be careful about. I don't want to get off my face on his drink when I'm trying to get in his head. He seems to be doing a better job at making me feel like shit than I am him. 'Spencer.' I say. Just to pull the conversation my way again and maybe get the bastard to talk to me so I can slip my tendrils in his brain and start what I'm here to do. I give my head a quick shake and feel the room gently doing a small spin for me. What the hell is this stuff? I don't normally feel like I'm getting pissed after just a few mouthfuls. Granted they were not really little sips. I've probably drunk half a pint of this shit in just the two swigs I took.

'What about Spencer?' His voice sounds bored.

'He's at home. I went and got him for you as you seemed unable to do the task yourself, which obviously meant I had to get out of where I was, but it's all good. Spencer is at home resting.'

He doesn't look convinced.

'Get your tech to check if you don't believe me. Penelope isn't it? A very nice young woman she is too. I might have to get to know her a bit better. She seems to be the sort of woman I could sit and have a nice chat with - unlike Emily; she's not really one to talk to is she?' I watch him but he's not moving to check up on my information yet. 'He was in a hospital somewhere in the north east. Parbrooks is the name. Get her to check it. He was there as a John Doe. He'll be fine now. I told him to rest for a few days and then contact you.'

Sam pipes up now. 'Parbrooks is a loony bin. They do experimental stuff there. They've got a lot of John Does for that reason. No one to complain when the treatment fucks up. Not a nice place to be at all.'

I glance over at Sam wondering how the fuck he knew that but I don't talk to him. My head feels decidedly wrong and I have a ghastly feeling that if I look at Sam for too long I'll try to jump his bones.

Right! I need to explain something to you now. I don't want you going away thinking that I'm into incest and stuff because that's not my thing at all, but Sam is Sam you know? He's not really my kid, if you get me. I spawned him. He's more of a clone than offspring, so fucking him would be like, well, doing it to myself and I really don't believe that anyone here would object to that. That's normal. That's natural. I'm telling you it is so take that fucking look off your face. The fact is that I don't want to screw him. I don't think now is the right time for that and he's sitting there letting off pheromones like it's Christmas in Lapland and I'm not going to be distracted by it. I take another long drink and blink at the now fuzzy Hotchner.

'Check up on it.' I think my voice sounds slightly slurred. Shit, I have to get out of here and get out quickly. I can see my hands are shaking and I can see through blurred eyes that Hotchner is watching me closely.

'I will.' He says but I think he mumbles it or speaks at me from a loud hailer, one or the other because his voice sounds both too distant and too loud at the same time. I place the rest of the drink on the table next to me and think about standing up. For now I'm only going to think about it because I don't think that the actual task of getting to my feet is going to be possible. In fact it feels as though I'm sliding slightly sideways.

-o-o-o-

I can't believe he dumped me. I can't believe after all this he said that to me. I stand in the hall looking at the door he just stepped out of and I walk slowly over to it. I want to pull it open and call for him to come back. I want to beg for him not to leave me here and I don't understand why I'm feeling so lost. I place my hands gently on the wooden door and rest my forehead against it. I'm sure he's still there. I can smell him. I can smell that wonderful scent he carries with him everywhere wafting around the crack under the door. It's so strong I can almost see it sliding through like long smoky tendrils crawling over the door and over my face and up my nose. I close my eyes tightly in fear of them invading my sight as well because I know that they will make my eyes water. I know that it will look like I am standing here crying and wishing he'd just knock on the door and want to come back again, but I know he wont. I know that he'll not be back. Though the smell crawling up my nose and into my brain has that beautiful lust filled feeling to it I can also sense something else. There is something wrong. Wrong with Floyd? As I tighten my eyes even more in a vain attempt to stop the tears from finding a way out, I think of the way he looked. Floyd looked ill. He looked like he'd been drinking or was drugged, but I also know that it was neither of those two things.

The urge to just pull the door open increases but the smell is slowly going. He's left. He's walked away and not come back. I angrily wipe the damp off my face. I am a grown man not some kid who doesn't like to be left alone. I can deal with this. It cannot be worse than where I've been for god only knows how long. Slowly I move back away from the door again, still holding the bed sheet around me.

'I need a shower.' I say to the empty apartment. 'I need a shower and I need a coffee. I have to sort myself out and stop behaving like this. I need to pull myself together.' And though I'm saying these words I am walking slowly back to the bedroom thinking – _I am my mother; this must have been how she felt._ I grab my bathrobe and then go to the kitchen and get the coffee machine set up and then wander back to the bathroom for a shower. I'm still wandering around with a sheet wrapped around me so it is as easy as just letting go of it to have me stripped down ready for a soaping. I turn on the shower and close the bathroom door then just stand there looking at it wondering if Floyd would have returned if I'd asked. If I'd begged. If I'd opened the door and shown him that I needed him here and not wherever he's gone.

He's dumped me.

'He doesn't want me. He has found someone else.' I say to myself and turn and step under the hot water. The water which is probably too hot. The water I want to cleanse my body with and in my mind I am thinking that if I can clean my body then I won't be thinking the way I am. If I can get rid of the smell of Floyd off me then I won't have to keep thinking about him, but I know I will. I know I won't be able to stop.

My hands move slowly over my skin as I soap my self and wash my hair. I'm not going to let this effect me. It's nothing really. I can find someone else. Even if for one night. Even if for an hour or maybe less. I can find someone to take away this empty feeling I have crawling through me. I will show him that I'm not going to sit here in my apartment for days brooding on his words. I feel an almost childish need to prove to Floyd that I am wanted and needed, even if not by him; to make him jealous. To make him return to me.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6 Curve Ball

Curve Ball.

* * *

He stood on the hill and looked down again at the big gates. Frustration and rage were boiling through his blood like a disease. It made the corner of his mouth twitch and the small muscles under his left eye go into an unwanted spasm. There was too much to do and he felt as though time was going to fast for him to keep up with it. Every day he came to watch, but as of yet he'd not made the move he wanted to make. He needed to let Gert Arrowman realise that he'd made the biggest mistake of his life. He fiddled aimlessly with the binoculars hanging around his neck and made irritated noises in the back of his throat. More time; he needed a little bit more time to make the bastard squirm a bit. Maybe tomorrow would be the right day. Perhaps the right day was yesterday and he'd missed his chance. The noises in the back of this throat grew darker and deeper as he wondered if that was the case; he'd come here every day and he'd get more frustrated because his chance had gone. That initial fury over what Arrowman had done was dissipating gradually and though he still felt that rage it was of a different sort now. It had turned into something impotent and rotting. His hand moved to the gun he had fixed in a holster by his hip and his fingers ran slowly and lovingly over it.

'Soon.'

His mutterings only heard by himself.

The cell phone vibrating in his jacket pocket forced him out of his self pity and back to now and back to what he should be doing. He pulled it out and looked at the called ID.

'Shit.'

This wasn't a call he wanted to take, but equally not one he was able to ignore. He flipped the phone open and took the call.

-o-o-o-

I could stand here all day alone in my bedroom and never come to the right decision. I have to just do this and get it done. I don't want my life ruled by people who either don't understand me or profess undying commitment and then walk out. It's happened too many times. It's time now for me to make my own mark. It's time for me to be who and what I really am and to stop hiding behind Hotch. I know he will abandon me as Gideon did and as my father did and even in a way as my mother did. I know it will happen and I have to be secure in myself before it happens. I'm tired of being the one who is the one left behind. I need to be the one making waves and being selfish.

I pull open my closet door and stand looking at the clothes set in there. I pull out a short sleeved white shirt and a pair of black jeans and throw them over onto the messed up bed. Standing staring at the bed wont make Floyd return to me, I know that, but it doesn't stop the yearning inside; that deep need to be wanted. Loneliness seems to be trying to smother my thoughts and I'm going to do something to fix it. Even if it's only for a few minutes, I'm going to go and do what I suspect Floyd has gone to do without me.

It's not time to leave yet. I have plenty of time to get myself ready and though I've already had a shower I feel like having a long soak in the tub. I leave my shirt and jeans on the bed and walk to the bathroom and run the water. This time I don't feel the need to have it too hot. This time I'm going to do lie back and relax and enjoy the feeling.

I stay there for about an hour, just lying there thinking about life and how things change so quickly its hard to keep tabs on it sometimes. You think everything is right and stable and suddenly it falls apart again. I dry myself down carefully and shave all necessary places and attempt to get my hair into some sort of order. It is just the right length to tuck behind my ears, but it won't stay that way for long. My hair has an annoying habit of doing what it wants and that is not often what I want it to be doing. Not that my hair will be the thing people will be bothered about tonight. Well I hope not anyway. I make a coffee and take it to the lounge area where I slump down with my bathrobe around me and a graphic novel in my hand. I flick through the pages but I've already read this one and studied each picture intensely. I throw it to the side and get up again with a long sigh and go to my bedroom once more to get something else to look at. Something to get me in the right frame of mind for later. Something I would rather the likes of Derek Morgan will never find that I look at. Having him know this one part of my life would destroy our friendship I'm sure of it. I really don't think he'd be able to handle this. So I curl up on the couch and I look at more pictures. These I've seen a thousand times before also, but these I can look at a thousand times more. My coffee gets sipped at occasionally until it's cold and then I put the magazine down and close my eyes. Just close them and let my mind drift away for a little while.

I wake quite a while later with memories of nice dreams brought on by what I'd been looking at. I rub gently at my eyes and check the time on the small digital clock on my desk. Time for me to go and get ready. Once my teeth are brushed and I've done a triple check for wayward toothpaste I pull on my clothes for the night. There is something going on in my head and I'm not sure if it's fear or guilt or the beginnings of the adrenaline rush I know I'll be getting. He told me – Floyd told me to stay here and rest and then he walked away. I don't have to do what he tells me. Actually I've never had to do what he tells me but now I feel a freedom from whatever hold he had over me. It feels like it was always there even when I thought my dreams were just that, but he's always been there lingering and it's only now that I realise that I slept for about four hours and my dreams didn't include him. I think that might be the first time I've dozed off like that and not awoken feeling the anxious pain in my chest which I get when I've had a nightmare. I decide not to drive to where I'm going. If I get lucky I won't need a car tonight and if I'm not then I'll get a cab home. No big deal really. It also means I can relax with a drink or two and not have to worry about if I'm able to drive or not. I'm going to go out and I'm going to enjoy myself. I don't want to think of my job or of Aaron. In fact I don't want to really think much at all. I just want to go with the flow and let things happen tonight.

My choices are getting a cab out or going by public transport and initially I think I'll get a cab. It's safer, but my little bit of paranoia about getting into trouble on the short trip out is pushed to the back of my mind. What trouble could I possibly get in riding on a train? The chances are just as great as getting a cab. If something is going to happen then it won't mind what form of transport I'm going to take. I stand for a short while looking at my cell phone and then give it a quick smile and leave. I've added to my white shirt and black jeans a black tie and a pair of boots which I like to wear sometimes. I have money in my pocket along with my hands and as I walk out of my door I am hit by a smell. I can still smell him. I can smell Floyd was here as easily as though he was standing there looking at me. I'm not sure if it was a purposeful act of his but for a while I just stand and wonder if I'm doing the right thing. He said he'd dumped me. The relationship if that's what it was is over, the smell is just a reminder and it jolted my mind for a bit, but not enough to stop me doing what I feel I need to do.

With a smile on my face I run down the stairs two at a time and escape from that memory of a smell and out into the lovely evening air.

-o-o-o-

I can see something is wrong with Flanders. I can see it clearly. I glance at Sam who is watching Floyd carefully and as Flanders slides sideways and onto the floor Sam jumps up.

'What're you doing?' Sam's question was at his father. If he is his father.

I move in quickly and roll the man onto his back and check for a pulse. It's there. It's very much there. I place my hand on his chest and can feel his heart pounding almost like it's trying to escape.

'Sam get the phone.' I don't look at the boy. I expect him to do as I ask.

'Is he dead?' I hear footsteps coming closer.

'No, he's not dead Sam. Go and get the phone quickly.' I see this as my chance to get the cuffs on Flanders and have him taken away from here. No second chances this time. As Sam goes for the phone I move fast and grab my jacket and pull a pair of cuffs out of my pocket. I then roll Flanders onto his side and secure his hands behind his back.

'What are you doing that for?' A phone is dropped onto the floor next to me.

'I need to make sure he doesn't go anywhere.' I say as I pick up the phone and dial a number.

I don't like what is going on here. I didn't want Sam to see something like this happen but I cannot let this man go if I have the opportunity to keep him locked up somewhere. I call in and request assistance and then dial another number. 'I need you over here now.' I tell the person on the other end of the phone and then I check on my prisoner again.

'I don't know why you've cuffed him. Something's wrong. You should be getting him some help not calling in your goons. You should have called an ambulance or something. You're going to let him die!' Sam is now trying to push me out of the way to see what is going on so I turn from where I am crouching on the floor and look at the boy.

'I think he's just drunk Sam. He's breathing fine and his heart is fine. There is nothing to worry about.'

But the look on Sam's face seems to be telling me differently. 'Drunk? No! He doesn't get drunk and anyway he hardly had any of your stuff. There's something wrong. You need to help him. It might be his brain. He needs to have scans and shit for his brain. Aaron you're going to kill him if you don't help.' His hand is tight on my shoulder looking at the very pale still form on the floor.

'His brain?' I look at Sam and then back at Flanders. 'What do you mean?'

'His brain! What do you think I mean. He needs to bleed or something. I know. I've seen this sort of thing before.' He pauses. 'Have you got a drill?'

I know that there is not much time before they come to drag this person away but I frown at Sam as I see the determined look on his face. 'A drill?' I ask.

'For his head. I've seen it done. I can do it for him. If it's his brain. I need to see closer.'

I've had enough of this nonsense and I stand and grab Sam by his arm and lead him away. 'I don't have a drill Sam and I want you to go to your room and calm down.' I guide him away from the lounge.

-o-o-o-

I go to my room but only because it feels like Aaron is about to break my arm and I can't think what's going on if I lying on the floor screaming in pain. I slam the door then quietly open it a tad so I can eves drop on what's going on. Everything seems to be going so wrong and I don't know what to do about it. I'm sure I should be out there stamping on his head – not on Aaron's – but I don't think he'll let me do that. They just don't understand what dad is all about. They have not the slightest clue what I'm all about and I think they're going to be in for a shock at some point along the route. They are keeping their voices down. Maybe Aaron knows I'm listening or at least suspects it. I hear a groan which I know is from my dad and I hear the mutterings again and the sound of someone being dragged along the floor. They're taking him somewhere and it's not a hospital. If they gave a shit about him that's where he would be going and the thought that he doesn't care if my dad's head is about to explode pisses me off a bit. I'm just about to pull the door right open when I hear a clearer voice.

'Where is he?' The voice says and I try to think back and find out if I know that voice but I don't.

'In his room. Last door on the left.' That was Aaron. He's sending someone to me. To take me away? Would he do that? I've only just arrived. I've not even unpacked my imaginary toothbrush and he's getting rid of me. I'm not _that _much of a problem am I? I quickly close the door and retreat with haste to my bed where I sit and wait. The door opens without a knock and a bloke comes in. He just stands looking at me for a while and then lets out a soft sigh. Like it's a relief I'm only me and not some werewolf or something.

'I'm Agent Green.' He tells me and walks into the room closing the door behind him. 'I'm going to be around when Agent Hotchner isn't available.'

'You're my babysitter?' I don't move from my bed and I don't take my eyes of the stranger.

'I suppose so.' His hands are in his jacket pocket as he walks towards me. 'I hear your father was taken ill and Agent Hotchner is looking after you. I think maybe we should get to know each other.'

I'm still watching him and there is something about him which smells wrong. My sniffing out of things isn't as well tuned as dad's but it's better than most peoples and I can tell there is something wrong here. I've just not figured out quite what it is yet. 'You already told me your name and you seem to know mine so that's all I need to know.' I flop back on the bed in a "I don't give a shit about you" way, but I'm taking in his smell and trying to work out what's wrong.

'Well maybe we should leave getting to know each other and let that happen naturally. I'm just here to keep an eye on you and make sure nothing happens. It's not because you're in trouble.'

'It's because I'm his spawn. I'm not stupid Agent Green. I think that might be your first lesson.'

He bastard comes and sits on the bed next to me. 'I think you need to learn how to be polite don't you? Maybe that can be your second lesson.' And he takes my hand as if to shake it like you do you know? But he squeezes it real tight until I think he's going to break some bones. I close my eyes and let him do it. He's an evil son of a bitch, I can tell now, but that's not what I can smell on him. There is something more. Something he is hiding and I'm going to find out what it is. I twist my hand in his and try to pull it away.

'You're hurting me.' I say through a clenched jaw.

'Good. Then you've learnt your first lesson. You will be polite and not ever talk to me like that again.'

I'm not sure how I talked to him and I definitely didn't cuss at him, so I think I'm going to have to have this lesson repeated if I don't get to talk to Aaron first. I need to tell him that there is something wrong with the man. Maybe he is sick. Perhaps that's what it is. When he finally lets go of my hand I stick it under my arm and hold it safely away from him.

'Do you have cancer or something?' I ask with genuine curiosity and maybe that was the wrong thing to say to cos I get a swift slap around the head for it. He then stands up and walks back to my door.

'I'm getting a drink.' He opens the door.

'I'd like a cocoa please.' I say to his back.

'I wasn't offering to get you anything you lazy punk. Get it yourself if you're that bothered.'

So I watch the door close and then pull out my hand and look at it. I wriggle my fingers to check he's not broken anything and when I see he hasn't I make a decision. I have to get rid of him. I have to have someone with me when Aaron's not around. I accept that, but I'm not going to be treated like this by someone who smells wrong. Quickly I go to the window which is the sort you push up to open and place my hand on the sill then slam it shut again. It takes a few goes but eventually I hear the crack of bone. I just stand there for a while in such pain I thought for a little while I was going to piss myself, but I pull myself back together and slip my broken hand out of the way of the window frame and go to find Aaron.

-o-o-o-

I've had Flanders taken away. Now I need to talk to Green and Sam about the arrangements. I can't expect the boy to stay here with someone he doesn't yet know, but I also have to get down to where Flanders is nice and secure and ask him a lot of questions. Then there is the matter of Reid. Tempted though I am to call his home number or cell I've not done so yet. I'm about to go and discuss things with Agent Green when Sam appears in front of me with tears running down his face.

'You can't leave me with him! He's mad. The man is insane!'

He holds a bruised hand out for me to see. 'What have you done?' I don't touch, I just look.

'He did it! You can't leave me with him. Please Aaron, don't leave me alone with him. He'll kill me!'

I look up at Sam's face to see if there is even a little bit of truth in his expression and I'm surprised to see that there actually is fear in his eyes. I look back down at his hand and this time carefully take it in mine so as to have a better look.

'How did he do this?' I can see the marks across the back of his hand and the swelling coming up.

'He crushed it in his hand! I tell you he's bonkers Aaron.'

I let go of his hand and nod to him. I think we need to talk to him. He's in the kitchen by the sound of it.' I take Sam by the arm and guide him towards the smell of coffee. There is certainly something I'm not sure about with the man. He seems to have made himself at home rather quickly. 'Agent Green.' I say and wait for him to turn around and when he does I continue. 'I think I should tell you that Sam is the sort of child who will go to any lengths to get his own way. He seems to be a compulsive liar.' Green looks at Sam and at me and nods.

'I will take that into account. Is there a problem?'

'Hell there is!' Sam bursts out. 'You broke my fucking hand you bastard.'

I add. 'He also has a problem with his language.' Then I look at Sam. 'No he didn't Sam. That is crushing damage probably done by a window.'

He tears himself away from me then grabs my arm and starts to drag me away from the kitchen 'You said we could talk if there was a problem, well there is a problem and I need to talk about it now. It wont wait so don't ask me to talk to you later. It might be too late then.'

This is the most insane situation I think I've ever been in. For a second or two my mind clears and I wonder what the hell I think I'm doing playing father to this boy who is a long way too far the other side of broken to be able to fix. I let him guide me back to his room and he starts pacing.

'Shut the door. I don't want him to hear.'

So I close it and stand with my back against it ready to hear what the boy has to say.

'He's hiding something Aaron. He smells wrong.'

'What are you talking about, smells wrong?'

'He has a smell about him. A dark stink coming out of his soul. There is something wrong with him but I don't know what. Please you can't leave me with him. He will do something bad I just know it. I can smell it on him. He doesn't like me. He really did hurt my hand, OK I hurt it more to get a better effect but he squeezed it until I thought the bones were going to break. I don't want to stay with him. He's evil Aaron. I can sense it on him. I can pick up on things like that. I might be a kid but I can tell and I don't want to be with him.'

'I see. You don't like his aftershave. I'll let him know.' I'm tired of all of this. I am so tired. I just need to go somewhere and sleep but I have to go and question Flanders. I can't afford to relax now. I have to keep going. I have to for the team. I can't let them see I am only just holding my sanity together.

'It's not that! Really Aaron I'm serious there's something very wrong with that man.'

'If you are picking up on something Sam then it's probably just because of his job. We see things we'd rather not see…..' He cuts me off with a shout.

'It's not that! You're not listening to me! He'll do something bad. I know it! I can smell it on him.'

That's enough. I've heard enough from Sam I think to last me a life time. The boy is going to break me if I don't get out now. 'I'm going. I have to go and talk to your dad and make sure his brain is OK. I can't take you with me and I cannot leave you alone. You will stay with Agent Green and you will stop this nonsense now. In the morning if I am not back he will take you to where you will be going to school. You will behave, and I mean that Sam, you will pack this stupidity in now and pull yourself together. I am aware that this situation isn't the best. I am sure you'd rather be out there roaming the streets, but that's not going to be how it is. You are here now. It is here or it's in a home for boys. What would you rather?'

'Right now? I'd rather be anywhere but near Green and his smell and you and your disbelief in my words. I'm being honest with you Aaron I don't trust him. There's something going on with him that you don't know about.'

I turn and leave the room. I need to talk to Flanders.

This is why my marriage failed.

This is why I should never have taken on this responsibility.

My job comes first.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7 House Rules

House Rules

* * *

They hauled me back again. Not my physical body as such but my mind, soul and spirit. They don't think to say "Hey Flanders, take a deep breath now because we are dragging you right back to hell." No they don't do that, they just give you a small tickle in the back of your mind, which in reality is just them getting their claws ready and then they jerk you out and drop you down someplace else.

I'm not the only one. There are many of us and some are monstrous and obvious and come to you in the form of nightmares and drunk drivers and terrorists and just plain mad men and/or women who go out there and wreak havoc. Yet there are a few of us who are considered "worthy" enough to be given tasks to do. I'm still not sure if that is a good thing or not. I'm sure that the terrorist who goes out and kills a dozen people with a simple bomb or such gets more satisfaction out of their work than I do. I'll admit that there are high times in my wayward career, but this constant dragging back and abuse is tiresome. I just want to get on with the job and do it as I see fit. Problems arise when what I see as "fit" isn't what my boss sees. This is such an example. One minute I'm trying to talk to Hotchner and the next _kaboom_ I'm back here again lying on my face on this black slightly squashy surface in a breechclout.

There is a deep feeling down inside me that I've bent the rules too far once again. I love rules. I have to have them to exist. I need them like a child needs rules from the parents to follow. _Don't talk to strangers. Don't play in the road. Don't take that which's not yours. Play nicely and don't pinch._ You know the sort of thing I'm going on about here don't you. Looking at things that way I suppose that this lot here where I am now are my parents. Well my step parents anyway, as this place certainly wasn't where I started my life.

Free will:

What do you think of that? We can do what we want. We have no barriers to stop us doing what we want. We can take and kill and mutilate all we want. We can screw when and what we like and there's nothing to stop us because we've been given this thing suddenly which we never had before and with it we get that rush of adrenaline which we'd never before experienced. Obviously some of that free will also comes in a package with a thing called "conscience". My package was faulty you might say. Mine didn't arrive with that included. I had nothing whatsoever to stop me running riot and no amount of slaps on the back of my hand was going to stop me. Trying to place a conscience in me after the fact is far too late. I've already had the thrills and the need for more of it becomes overwhelming. I'm not excusing what I am. I'm not saying that I would have been a lovely angel and a great all round bloke; I cant say that because I don't know and to be frank with you I wouldn't want to be that. I love who I am, but I do need something to keep me in check occasionally. Too occasionally it seems recently. I used to be able to go decades and not get pulled back here, but now it seems to be the thing to do at the weekends. Am I getting harder to control or are their rules becoming stricter? I don't know. Maybe that's something I need to ask them when they decide to talk to me. For now I'm just going to lay here and wait for them. They will call me when they're ready. It's all a game. One big game and at the best of times I'm a dirty cheat. It's the only way you can win sometimes.

-o-o-o-

I've left Sam with Agent Green. I'm not sure what Sam's objection to the agent is or was, but he needs to learn that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do. I've had to learn that. I'm still learning that. I would far rather be back at home with a drink and a book than standing outside an interview room; or cell in this case, waiting for Flanders to awaken. He's been checked over by medics and they can't find anything wrong with him. There seems to be no reason why he's not woken up yet, and the panic from Sam about Flanders brain is niggling at me. I want him checked properly but I also don't think it wise to transport this person to a hospital. We will wait for now. He is breathing steadily and his heart rate though slightly fast isn't something that they medics seem overly concerned with. It's the bleeding from the nose which is worrying me though and now looking through the bars at him curled up on the floor I can see a small trickle of blood making its way out of one of his ears.

Morgan is standing with me and I think he sees it too. He takes a couple of steps forward and places his hands around the bars of the cell Flanders in locked in.

'What the hell's going on with him?' The question wasn't really directed at me but at himself but I still walk forward and place a hand on his shoulder.

'I don't know Morgan but I think it's time he was in hospital.'

tI see the slight nod of Morgan's head and hear the sigh coming from down deep inside him as a small bubble appears in Flanders' ear and pops making a small pattern of droplets on the side of Flanders' face.

'I'll escort him there, but he needs to be kept secure. I'm not convinced that this isn't some kind of ruse to get us to open the cage.' Morgan's hands tighten on the bars.

'We will both escort him. I'll call the hospital and make arrangements. I don't want civilians around when we arrive.'

Morgan's hands are now moving up and down the bars in hard frustrated movements. He then releases the bars and turns his back on the prisoner. 'He will go down for life.'

I nod at him. 'If we can keep him for long enough. If he is considered sane enough for trial.'

'I'd not want to have to share a cell with that.' Morgan says as he starts to walk away. 'Shall I go call the hospital?'

I take a long intake of breath. 'No, just get the medics back here and see what they think.' I'm half hoping the man will be dead before we have to come to a decision about hospitals.

-o-o-o-

I get the subway to the stop before where I need to get off and disembark there. I feel a strange nervousness along with fear and excitement about where I am going and I wonder if anyone else can see that on my face as I walk up the station steps and out into the night air. There's a coffee shop on the corner and I walk in and get a bottle of water. I suddenly feel very thirsty, but I'm not sure if it's just that I need a drink or if it's genuine fear of what I'm about to do. The streets are brightly lit here and there are a lot of people still around considering it's night time, but I guess that's fairly normal for this part of the city. I need to walk a couple of blocks to get to where I have decided to spend my night. I'm going to start out in a bar called "Henry's Place" and maybe tomorrow if I'm still feeling this need I will try somewhere else. I've been to "Henry's" before and as I walk down the street getting closer the type of people I am passing gradually changes. There are less male female couples and many more men than women. Again I'm used to this. I know this place. I am familiar with these shops I am passing and not even glancing in the windows. I know what they sell. I'm familiar with their products and I don't need that tonight.

Henry's Place is a double fronted building with the doors set right in the centre. There are windows along both sides make up of different coloured glass. They play the music too loud and sometimes the drinks are warm, but I'm not going in there to have a conversation with someone so the volume of the music isn't really a problem and I'll not be drinking too much. Sometimes on hot summer evening's when the place is busy the people spill out onto the street and the big double doors are wedged open so that the music drifts out with the people standing there smoking or chatting or making out. They don't know who I am. I don't use my real name here. I doubt if anyone does actually. I've never introduced myself to anyone, but they all seem to know me by the name of "Jay". I have no idea why they call me that. I'm sure there's a reason and I'm not sure I want to know what it is. I just accept that's what I'm called here the same way as Paul and John accept that they are called that, though it's highly unlikely that's their real names. Tonight the street outside the bar is virtually empty. There is one couple who I've seen before and are always together pressed up tightly together in the shadows and another two guys just standing having a smoke. They don't appear to be together though. I see that these latter two watch me approach and I can feel their eyes on my back as I push open the doors and enter the bar.

There are at a glance twenty-three people here so far. I expect it will get busier unless there's a party going on somewhere. They all seem to know if there is a thing going on but as I never hand out my phone number to anyone I always miss out on such events and probably for the best too. I'm not sure I'd still have a job if a party I was at got raided. Here though I am safe. Here I am just Jay, the guy who comes in and has a whiskey and sometimes leaves with someone and other times leaves alone. The music as always is loud and playing some kind of dance brain throbbing tune. It's like entering a different world. I'm not sure how this amount of noise cannot be heard half way across the city, yet I couldn't hear it just outside. Now I think it might make my ears bleed, not only with the volume it's at but at the actual tune which is playing. Clubbing music really isn't my thing.

I go straight to the bar and smile at the barkeep. He knows me. I don't have to ask for a drink. It just appears in front of me as I slide my money onto the bar. A whiskey with one bit of ice; just enough ice to take the occasional warmth off the drink. I now turn and have a proper look around me almost hoping that Floyd would be here and he'd smile at me and walk over and…well he's not here. I would have sensed him if he was. I would have felt that strange electricity in the air and I certainly would have been able to smell him over the cloying smell of the mixed scents of cologne these guys seem to favour so much. You would think that poor Spencer Reid would feel nervous here, but here I am Jay and Jay doesn't feel those pangs of slight panic. Here I know that I am in a way going to have to socialise but the form it will take will not need me to have long interesting conversations with anyone. Sometimes no words are needed at all. Business as such is conducted in a sort of code of nods and hand gestures. Really it depends on who the other person is and what that person wants.

They know me. They know what I'm after and though sometimes the give me more that I really wanted I wouldn't be here if I wasn't prepared to take what they are offering. Please excuse the pun. For the most part they know I wont take the pills offered and I wont smoke the joint passed to me. At first they thought that was strange and tried to convince me that I'd enjoy the experience much more with heightened senses but they've stopped trying to convince me now. I don't need my senses blown out of the water to enjoy it.

I lean back on the bar with my elbows and watch the crowd on the other side of the room. I don't mix with them, but I watch them and they give me the occasional look as though deciding if they want me or not. I should feel ashamed of myself standing here on display for them as though I'm a piece of meat at the market. Like some whore, but I'm not. I know my place. They know I know it and I am even offering them the chance to remind me of what my place is.

This is all such a contrast to working at the BAU. It's a complete different world. There I have power and respect. Here I have none. At the BAU I know I have people watching my back to keep me safe. Here they are watching my back maybe, but keeping me safe is a long way from their minds. At work there is always that slight feeling of not belonging, however long I've worked there for. There is a feeling of danger when I walk into a room with my flak vest on and my gun at the ready not knowing if someone in the shadows is standing there ready with a head shot. There is comfort given. We all watch out for each other. We grieve together when we see the next victim laying there ripped apart in a pool of congealing blood. We didn't save this person. We got the profile wrong or we just arrived too late to do anything and we comfort each other even if it's just by standing there in silence looking, or if it's a quick glance to make sure the person next to you is alright. There is a sense of relief when you leave that building again still with your flak vest on but your gun holstered and no shots fired. We again look at each other to reassure ourselves that indeed all is OK. Nothing happened. We are all still alive.

Here though, here it's not the same. Here they don't care if someone gets hurt. They expect it and strangely enough I need that. I have to feel that fist making contact with my face or ribs. I have to feel that hand wrapping its self around my neck and squeezing because that is the only way that I know I'm really still here and that gun man didn't splatter my brains over the person standing behind me, or I didn't get the brains of someone else shot over my own face. That pain tells me that I'm still alive and moreover it puts me back in my place. It pulls me back down to reality and wakes me up again. I guess in such the same way that people cut or burn themselves or mutilate themselves in other ways, this is my way. This is my coping mechanism.

I'm so far away in my own thoughts about life and why I am here that I don't notice someone walk over to me. I don't actually realise that someone is there until they touch my arm. I glance over at the guy and see blue eyes and short cropped brown hair. He's probably about the same height as I am but twice as wide. He mouths something at me which I don't catch and he leans forward so that his upper body is against mine. I turn slightly so I'm facing him and give him a quick once over. I've not seen him here before but I had seen him when I came in over with a crowd I have seen, and been with, so I guess they told him who I was. Just some guy who likes it rough. That's all I am to them and that's all I want it to be.

He places his mouth next to my ear and says the name 'Gary' in it. I feel his hot breath over my skin and though the name Gary wouldn't normally make me smile somehow today it has. I lean in and say 'Jay' in his ear and he just nods and takes my arm at the elbow and leans in again. 'I have my own place.' And this time it is me who is just nodding. I don't think I'd be able to talk if I wanted to. The good old adrenaline rush has started and blood is flowing quickly to places other than my brain. I quickly finish up my drink and without even a backwards glance or second thought, I leave with a complete stranger to go back to his place in some unknown location.

I hope Floyd is out there somewhere, if not watching me then sensing what I'm doing. I hope he realises that I don't need him. I don't need him to feel wanted. I don't need him to get that closeness I need so badly. I don't need Floyd's hands running over my skin making me tingle all over. Tonight I have Gary or to put it more in perspective; Gary is going to have me.

-o-o-o-

Aaron has left me with this bloke who smells all wrong and I'm not happy about it one bit. I can feel the hate washing off him with such strength that it makes me dizzy when I think too hard about it. I wanted to sit in my room all night and watch crap on the television but he's ordered me down into the kitchen to eat pizza. I tell him I would rather eat it in the lounge and watch television, but he's not a very compromising person it would seem and so the table it is. Don't get me wrong, I'm not scared of this person, but I'm very wary of him. There is something so wrong about his whole persona but I can't figure it out. I wondered if he was like me and dad. I wondered for just a little while if that's what I was picking up on, but it's not.

I think he's insane.

And no I'm not just saying that cos he hurt me and talked to me the way her did, I seriously do think he is completely gone in the head. Well not completely gone but definitely he's got a screw loose in that brain of his. He doesn't talk to me. He just slaps the food on the plate he'd set on the table and he stands and watches me. No actually he more than watches me, he seems to be trying to delve right into my soul and find out who I am and what I am. I wonder if he can feel that something about me is not quite right too. I wonder if he's got some kinda magical powers which can sense people like me. I eat my food slowly and try not to look at him too much and I sip on the drink he's placed next to my plate.

'You don't have to watch me so closely you know.' I tell him around a mouthful of tomato pizza.

'Shut the fuck up and eat.' Is the reply I get.

My assumption that he doesn't like his assignment or me is probably a correct one. 'Don't you fucking swear at me you bloody bastard.' I spit back at him. Spit being the right word cos I spray bits of pizza in his direction.

He doesn't blink. I've noticed that. Not even when I spit food at him does he blink. That's just wrong. Everyone blinks. Only the really insane never blink. I make a mental note of this fact to tell Aaron when he returns and this makes me look up at the clock to check the time. It's gone eight in the evening now and he's not back yet. I have a horrible feeling that he's going to be away all night.

'I want to check that my dad is OK.' I push my plate away from me with a couple of slices going slightly cold left on it.

'Eat the damned food you shit head.'

OK that really isn't the way an Agent should talk to someone. It's not like I've done anything wrong. I'm not going to sit here and be ordered around by this person. I'm going. I'm going to leave this damned place and go for a walk and he's not going to stop me.

Right, it didn't exactly go according to plan and no I didn't cry. I'm fucking sixteen years old you know…I don't cry when I get smacked around by some monster from fuck knows where and for your information you do get tears in your eyes when someone thumps you with what felt like an iron hammer in the eye and it makes your nose run too…and with the split lip he gave me I think I am allowed to have tears. Not of pain though. As I said, I don't cry for things like that. He dragged me into my room by my hair and kicked me over towards my bed.

'Strip.' He told me, and yes I sniffed a bit and was making sort of sobbing noises but not because I was crying. Remember that.

I slowly remove my socks and then my dungarees and Tshirt and I let them just fall to the floor.

'All of it.' He's pointing at my boxers.

I would have protested but I had a feeling that he'd try to black both my eyes and succeed if I didn't do what he said. I have no worries about nudity, do not misunderstand my hesitance here, I just didn't want to be _that _exposed with him watching me. I slowly removed them and stood there waiting for his next order.

'Get into bed you disgusting filthy little pervert.' He tells me.

And I give him a frown cos I really don't know how he knows I'm a pervert; which incidentally I'm not. It's all natural where I come from. I climb into bed and curl up under my covers and pray to the gods of Pluto that Aaron will be back before the morning. I don't want to sleep all the time that Green is here watching me, and I know he is. I know he's not left the room. I can smell him. I can smell that rot and decay and he's watching me and waiting for something. I just don't know what it is he's waiting for.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8 The Ball Park

The Ball Park

**a/n slash warning.**

* * *

The medics were understandably shocked at what they were looking at, and looked equally nervous about the man bleeding on the floor of the cell. They agreed fairly swiftly to the decision to send Flanders to the hospital. Although they said that his heart and lungs seemed to be working well, as far as they could tell from their quick check, they were concerned about the blood and any brain damage which may be, and in their opinion this was very likely.

'He needs to be treated. He has to have a brain scan.' Was in brief what we were told. I could sense the tension in Morgan as easily as I could feel my own, but the decision on how to deal with Flanders was ultimately out of my hands. Strauss was getting impatient with us. We had a double murder and a threat of more to deal with and this was splitting my attention far too much. What I decided to do in the end was escort the ambulance to the hospital and wait until the tests had been done and then go home. Morgan seemed to be thinking the same. We stood and watched as Flanders' now limp form was placed on a gurney and strapped down. The strapping down was something I took particular interest in. I warned the medics that this man was dangerous, though I could see by the looks on their faces that they considered any danger to be more of losing their patient on the way to the hospital and not a danger to themselves. I tried to emphasise the great importance of keeping Flanders secure. I told them that he had already escaped from a secure hospital environment and not to be fooled by his apparent lack of mobility now. I'm not sure they completely understood though. I'm not sure that they were really listening to me and so this is why Morgan and I went with them. We followed the ambulance closely behind not letting it out of our sight even when the blue lights flashed. We matched them light for light and burst of siren until we arrived at the hospital they were going to do the tests at.

Again I warned them. Again I told them that Flanders' condition might well not be as bad as it seemed. I told them over again until Morgan eventually put a hand on my arm.

'I think they heard you Hotch.' He said gently, but I could tell he was as worried about this situation as I was. I could see the way he was standing so still next to me hardly braving a breath in case it woke Flanders up; in case Flanders suddenly awoke in a rage and he would have to blame himself for bringing him back by the very act of breathing.

Together we stood or sat or paced the waiting room. Both of us prepared to pull guns and leap into unwanted action as soon as the alarm bells rang and we were both confidant that they would. We didn't have to speak to each other; all our thoughts were being transmitted to the other by some mystical force. It was a ploy of Flanders. It was some kind of ruse to get away from the cell and to somewhere he felt more able to escape from. We both knew that. I removed my wrist watch to stop me from constantly checking the time. I kept my back, as best I could to the wall with the big clock announcing how slowly time always went when you were waiting for something to happen. Something marvellous and wondrous or something full of pain and hate.

And while I paced and sat and stood staring into space trying to avoid the look on Morgan's face I failed to even once consider Sam.

This is my failing. This is why Haley left me. This is why I forgot my own son's hospital appointments. Some things just fill my mind and take over and it doesn't allow for these smaller things to encroach and disturb my thought processes. My own son shouldn't have been a smaller thing though. That also is my failing.

I don't know how long we waited. It felt like I was there for weeks in some kind of limbo; a sort of time slip outside reality, but eventually a doctor came and found us. My first thought was that he wasn't covered in blood or trailing his insides behind him. This had to be a good sign. I hoped it was a good sign at least. He coughed into his hand.

'Agent Hotchner?' he asked, glancing at us both. Morgan looked at me and I nodded at the doctor and took a step forward.

'Can you tell us what's going on? Have you found out anything?' My voice seemed to still be in that weird time slip and was faint and fuzzy.

'He's been taken down to surgery.'

'I see.' But I wasn't sure I did. 'Can you tell me what's wrong?'

'He seems to be haemorrhaging. We need to go in and see exactly what's going on.'

Morgan spoke now from somewhere down a long tunnel. 'Is he going to make it?'

The expression on the doctor's face didn't seem to change. It remained blank and slightly confused looking. 'I'm not able to tell you yet. I've honestly never seen something like this on someone who is still breathing. It's a bit of a mystery. I need to ask you if you know if he's suffered a head injury recently.'

Morgan and I both slowly shook out heads

_Have you got a drill?_

'Has anything like this happened before?'

'He seems to get a lot of nose bleeds and has a psychotic violent tendency.'

_His brain._

And though these thoughts drifted through my mind I dismissed them as quickly as I had done originally.

'I would think anyone with that sort of damage to his brain would either be psychotic or a vegetable. He must have been in intense pain for a long time. It's a wonder the shock of the damage didn't kill him.'

I look over at Morgan again who has begun pacing. 'How long will he be in surgery?' I asked while I remember the odd way Flanders had been acting and how different he looked. Had he been fighting pain? Was this monster going to get away with all he did on a technicality? "He is cannot possibly have known the consequences of his actions. Flanders is so brain damaged that he is unfit for trail. Flanders will be treated and then considered healed and released again." I can hear the words being said as though they already had.

'I don't know how long this will take Agent Hotchner. It really will depend on what they find when they go in.'

'Can he survive?' Morgan asks…and again he seems to be down a long tunnel.

The doctor shakes his head. 'He should already be dead. The out come of this procedure is not something I can possibly predict. You are welcome to wait, or you may go and you will called when we have some news for you.'

I should go home. I should sleep and be ready for the morning. I have to call Reid at some point and see if Flanders was being truthful about his return, even that had slipped from my mind as Flanders and this situation has flooded my mind and drowned all other thoughts.

'I'll wait. Morgan, go home and rest.'

But he sits further back into the chair. 'I think I will wait with you Hotch. We have the lab doing tests on cases found at the two scenes. I don't think we can go forward until we know the results.'

I nod slowly and sit down again. 'We will wait. Thank you for letting us know. Please be aware that this man is very dangerous.'

The doctor nods at me. 'So I was informed. I can assure you that he cannot be a danger to anyone in the condition he is in right now.'

I go to look at my watch again and remember I've removed it and my hand drifts to my pocket but I stop myself. I don't want to know that the weeks I seem to have been waiting have only been a few hours.

-o-o-o-

Gary's place is a spacious apartment. I will briefly describe the layout for you:

In the front door is a small hallway. A door straight ahead goes to the kitchen and a door to the left leads to a big lounge with one wall all glass. I can see that there is a balcony out there over looking the city streets. On the wall opposite the windowed wall is another doorway. This leads to yet another square hallway. There is an archway straight ahead which leads to the main bedroom. There is a door to the left leading to a spare room and an opening to the right which has a long beaded curtain and leads to a very large bathroom.

The whole place is bare in as much as there are no pictures on the walls and no drapes at the windows. There is a TV fixed to a wall in the lounge and a long leather reclining couch. There are no books and nothing at all giving this place a personal touch. Except for the owner of course. The floors are all bare wood and highly polished. The place echoes and feels strange and not in the slightest bit homely. As I stand and look around me I feel hands resting on my shoulders.

'This way.' A voice says and I feel the hands gently pushing me in the direction of the door leading out and into the second hallway. The pressure increases as I am pushed forward through the archway and into a bedroom. I can now see where he keeps his personal things and the hands on my shoulders dig in fingers as he manoeuvres me around so that I'm facing him. I can see that look on his face. I've seen that look so many times before and I know immediately that Gary is going to give me exactly what I need. He places a hand on my chest and pushes me further back and into the room until my back's against the wall and now the fingers are moving down my shirt quickly and expertly slipping it open as he works his way down. There is nothing tender here. Nothing in the slightest bit loving. That's not what either of us are after here. Gary wants to feel powerful and in control and I want to feel someone taking any control I might have had away from me. He tugs at my shirt and pulls it from where I'd had it tucked into my jeans and pulls the shirt down my arms. Still we stand in silence. No words necessary here. We both know the game and the rules; no need to go over them again. The shirt is thrown to one side and I stand leaning slightly on the wall just looking at this Gary person as now I feel his fingers running over he front of my jeans.

'Oh you dirty little slut.' He mumbles, but this is just the set pattern of words which they always say at this point. It's all part of the routine and the game. I keep my hands at my sides breathing deeply now as one hand is moving over my chest and fingers are flicking and pinching at my nipples and my automatic response is to push my lower body against that hand which is still touching me through my jeans. I keep following the game and stand letting him do what he wants to me. His hands slide down my body and now I can feel him unlacing the boots I have on and he pulls them off one at a time as he rubs his face against my still clothed legs and now I feel the hands back on the front of my jeans. They undo my belt and quickly and easily undo my waist band button on my jeans.

From this point onwards there is nothing gentle about the experience. His hands are hard and rough and the little flicks and pinches get harder. We haven't decided on a "safe" word and now it is far to late to start talking about such things. I'm going to have to trust this stranger to understand if I say 'no' I really do mean it. Likewise the word 'stop'. There is a problem with these two words though as they usually mean, 'whatever you do don't stop, please never stop!' and that is the usual interpretation of those two words when things have reached this point, but I have no intention of asking him to stop. At least not yet. I love the taste of blood that fills my mouth as his fist makes contact with my face. I love the sensation of my head smacking back on the wall. I love the way he drags me by my hair and slings me on the floor like I'm the bit of refuse I feel I really am. This is me. This is what I really am. I lie their wanting to dig my fingers into the hard flooring I have my back on. I can feel my fingernails bending under the strain and my toes curl and uncurl constantly waiting for that final thing he's going to give me. I look at the ceiling for a short while and then my eyes are closed and I let myself think only of what his hands are doing. Where they are touching me and where those fingers are digging in leaving marks on my skin I will have for a while to remind me of Gary and my night out. His hands are drifting over my inner thighs, pressing on my skin and moving me to suit his purpose; and my purpose obviously. Cold fingers probing and exploring over me and then with no warning that pain. I arch my back and my eyes fly open with the shock. Something is missing. Something's not right.

'Gary did you…?' I don't finish what I am saying. A swift backhand shuts me up and lets me know that he doesn't want me talking to him, but now I know something is wrong. 'No, stop!' and I'm struggling under him.

'Shut the fuck up you slut. I'm giving you what you want.'

And the pain increases as he takes me hard and deep and my muscles tighten and tense and I move my hands onto his shoulders and try to push him away from me.

'Stop!' I shout, and that is the last thing I said for a while. I feel the fist make contact with my jaw and I guess at that point my body relaxes for him. I don't know. I don't know anything more until I awaken some unknown time later still lying on the floor with the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

'Oh god no.' I mutter and roll over onto my side. 'Please no.' but I know what he's done. I can feel what he's done and I want to scream and cry because though I know how dangerous this is I don't think I have ever felt so exhilarated. With Floyd it's different. I know he's safe. He wouldn't pass anything on to me. I know that, but I don't know the same with Gary, but I know what he's done to me. I crawl over to the bed and pull off a sheet and wrap it tightly around myself and then walk towards the bathroom. The guy is just exiting as I enter that hallway and he stands and looks at me.

'Thanks for the fuck.' He tells me. 'Your clothes are in there. Get dressed and fuck off out of here. I need to sleep. Work in the morning you know.'

'Can I shower?'

'Just get your clothes on and leave. Have your shower in your own bathroom. What the fuck do you think I am?'

I shake my head slowly at him. The hope that I might spend the night here being held and feeling wanted are gone. Not that there was ever much hope of that in the first place.

'I need to call a cab.' I say wearily as he walks by me into his bedroom.

'Get the hell dressed will you. I want you out of here.'

And I am biting on my bottom lip because I have to ask him even though I know what the answer will be, but I don't know how to. The adrenaline has long left me and my nerves are peeking so I just nod to him and walk back and collect up my clothing and then pull my clothes on over my sticky sweaty stinking body. Maybe the idea of having a shower was a bad one. Maybe I need this feeling on my skin for a while longer, just as a memory like the bruises will be just a memory. When he pushes ten bucks into my hand I just stand and stare at it still with my shirt only half buttoned and my boots still not on my feet.

'You expected more? You should have said so.'

'I, I, what, what is this?' I am still staring at it.

'Payment.'

'Oh.' Is all I can think of to say. It's one thing that he thought I was a whore who'd want paying. It's another to only be given ten bucks. 'I don't want your money.' I tell him and just let it drop to the floor. I manage from that point onwards not to even look at this man, let alone talk to him. I feel sick inside for so many reasons but yet somehow it feels right. This is how Spencer should be feeling. This is what Spencer is. I let myself out and call a cab from a public phone just down the street from the apartment block.

-o-o-o-

Well I don't want to go to bed and Green can't make me. Well at least that was the thought running through my head until he grabbed me and pulled me to my bed.

'Make a fuss or get out of your bed and I'll tie you to it.'

I didn't doubt it. Not one bit. I wanted to ask him what he'd done. I know he's done something. I can smell it on him, but then again maybe it was as Aaron said and was just because he'd seen so much bad shit. Maybe he'd had to kill someone on the job and was feeling guilt over it. I'm not good at picking up on guilt really but maybe that's what it is. I just don't know what I personally did to piss him off so much. I get into my bed and pull the covers over me. He's not given me the option to put night clothes on and so I pull the bedding up close and hold on tightly to it. At least I do until it's ripped out of my hands and pulled away.

'You don't need that. It's a warm night. You'll stink of sweat in the morning.'

I frown at him and feel very exposed under his glare. 'I can have a shower.'

'No you cannot have a fucking shower. Sleep and don't get up.' I watch his hand waver over the place he has his gun and I roll onto my side and curl up tight. 'Goodnight Sam.' He says and it's almost like a different voice talking to me. 'Sleep well pretty boy.' And those words alarm me. I'll have to tell Aaron about this in the morning. I hope he's here in the morning anyway; I don't want to have to go to this special school place with this bastard.

I want my dad.

I want to know he's OK.

I want Aaron to come back and make this situation go away.

I want Agent Bastard Fuckface Green to drop dead of some strange disease of the brain, but I think it's more likely dad will be doing that. I lie in the dim light and look at my hand. It was a bit daft hurting it like that. I should have known Aaron would know it was me who'd done it and now it's throbbing like a bitch and I want pain killers for it but I can't get out of bed because I know Green is standing the other side of my door. And now I want a piss and I cant get up and do that either and I'm so damned thirsty and there's no water in a glass by my bed like I just know Aaron would have left me.

You'd have thought that living how I had done before under constant threat from Louis was bad, but this is something on a whole new level. Louis bothered me and yes he hurt me and yes he did things to me that a guy shouldn't do to a kid, but I didn't have this deep down fear of him like I do Green. I disliked him, but I would have told him and I would have fought what he did to me if I wanted to, but not so with Green. There's something malevolent about the man. Something even worse than some of those other things out there in the dark and I think that's because he's not one of us. He's not following any rules but his own.

The more I think about it the thirstier I get and the more I need to pee. There is not option I don't want to we the bed like some little kid, I'll have to get up and go. I can get a drink from the bathroom too. I slide silently off my bed and creep on my toes towards the door and just stand and listen. I can't hear anything so I put my ear to the door. The bastard was waiting for me. I know he was. Just as my ear touches the cold wood of the door he slams it open. I make an 'umph' sound and fly back and catch my head on the corner of the little table thing next to the bed. A double whammy head slam. One at the side of my head from the door and the other the back of my head and it makes the room spin and my co-ordination is fucked, so I'm still trying to get to my feet when Green comes for me and he comes for me with boots on and a smile on his face.

'I told you not to get up.' A soft voice. A very out of place voice. It's all so wrong! Where is Aaron?!

'I needed to pee.' I whimper back like some damned kid.

'Well looks like you've solved that problem now you filthy little shit. Look at you!' And the kicking starts. He's very clever is Green. He only kicks my balls and my back. He leaves the rest of me alone. No matter how hard I try to stop him getting me between the legs he seems to manage and I think my screams could have been heard in Texas for the first two kicks and then I just have my mouth open screaming silently. He's right though. I suddenly don't need to go to the bathroom and I suddenly don't feel thirsty. He's cured me of both of those things, but damn I'm gonna get him in trouble with Aaron tomorrow.

I can't stand. I can't move.

He drags me across the floor holding my bad hand tightly and drags me to the bed. 'Am I going to have to tie you to the bed or have I cured your wanderlust for tonight?'

I don't answer him. I can't answer him. I just want to curl up and die.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9 Snap

Snap

* * *

Finally someone comes and talks to me. I've still not moved. I'm lying on this slightly squashy black floor feeling waves of warm air across my back. Something has gone wrong somewhere; with the other me. The one I've been ripped out of. I can tell that much, but there's nothing I can do about that right now. I'm going to have to hope that they allow me to go back again before it's too late.

'You know why we brought you back.' It's not a question and so I don't bother answering it. I do move though to sit and glance around trying to figure out which direction the voice came from. 'We need to go over the rules once again.' OK, still not a question but at least I know why I'm here. They think, or rather they know, that I've sort of bent the rules slightly.

'And which rule might that be?' I say into the darkness. I swear it's getting hotter and that's never a good sign.

The voice is closer now, but seems to be coming from all around me. Some trick they have here with acoustics but it's not fazing me in the slightest. I know all their silly little tricks. I think I know them all anyway. I'm sure they come up with new and exciting ways to confuse and intimidate at their board meetings. I cross my arms tightly across my chest and move again so I'm kneeling back on my heels.

'Article five zero one seven, paragraph three.' I am told. I close my eyes and have a quick painless think about this.

'No contact with Reid.' I let them know. 'But we had an agreement.' I add. 'You put me in the position which meant I had to have a small amount of contact with said person. I think if you look back on the records and read the sub clauses and amendments you will notice that I have not in actuality broken any of your fucking rules. I merely took up the option of clause seven of the contact agreement.' I pause for dramatic effect. 'In actuality it is you who have broken the damned rules by dragging me back here when I was in the process of doing my job.' Again I pause, but they don't seem to be responding. I can feel the sweat running down my back now and also down my face. I wipe the sweat off my face with an equally sticky and wet forearm and then continue. 'No altering of methods to be permitted whilst there is actual interaction between worker and victim or client.' I can taste the salty sweat in my mouth now. It's getting unbelievably hot and the floor seems to be more yielding than is normal. I have the sudden – almost fear – that I'm going to be sucked right down through the floor and into hell. 'Come on you bastards, talk to me and explain why I cannot bend a rule slightly but you can tear me from myself when I'm halfway through a job.'

Silence. Total silence.

And a mother of a headache.

'The agreement became voided when you had physical contact with the victim Reid.' This time the voice is right behind me. I can feel it's breath on the back of my neck.

'All I did was get him out of that place. He can now fulfil his own destruction. That was what was meant to happen. That was what you wanted! And that would not happen all the time he was drugged and stuck in that place. I merely reset the pieces on the playing board. That is not an infringement of the agreement.' I move around so I am facing the direction the voice came from and stand squinting into the darkness. 'You need to return me. I cannot complete my task if I'm here.'

'The task is cancelled.'

And I know that's crap. I know that's not true. 'Have you sent someone else in?'

The laugh is so close and strong that the force of it sends me back a step or two. 'You have? You cancelled my assignment?' I don't like the sound of this one tiny bit.

'We have to admit that you did a good job as far as it went, but your hesitance to continue with the task and to incorporate the other clients on the list has meant that though what you achieved was outstanding, you only managed to do half of the job we assigned you.' The breath in my face is sending hot wafts of the scent of decay over me.

'That was because I was not finished!' I take a step forward and my foot sinks into the oozing floor.

'And you were not finished because you are incompetent and lazy. You think of your own skin before that which you should be thinking of. You are disposable. You should remember that when you are twisting the rules and playing you mind games.'

I really do resent the claim that I'm incompetent. Lazy maybe, I'll let them have that one, but when I have my mind on something I go for it tooth and nail. 'I've never let you down.' I tell them. 'I've always given you what you want; even the destruction of my own child. I gave you that because you asked.' I can hear breathing all around me. It feels as though I am surrounded by things so close I should be able to reach out and touch them, but I can't see a bloody thing. My head is pounding even harder now. The sort of pain I'd normally get when I have one of my monster headaches and I wonder what the hell is going on back down there where my body is. 'Look, just send me back. I need to see what the hell is going on down there. Let me sort that out and then pull me back and we can discuss this matter further. I will be paying no more visits to Reid, but I have to finish what I started with Hotchner and Prentiss. If I'm not there they will simply move back to where they were previously and all the work I did will be wasted.'

Now my heart is beating too fast and my breaths are becoming short and sharp. What the hell is going on back down there? What are they doing to me? 'Send me back for the love of Pluto!' I shout at them and I shouldn't have. I really should have not said that because these guys they have a set of morals they go by and one of them is not go use that word in that manner. It was extremely rude of me and I do deserve a slapped wrist for that slip up, but all which happens is a dreadful silence. The sounds of breathing has gone and the floor seems to solidify slightly and the heat has died back. I was bothered before that it was too hot and now I am just as bothered that it's not anymore. What in the name of Hades are they playing at? I don't get it at first, but that soon changes. The place I am in goes from the pitch blackness to a sudden bright whiteness and pain I never thought someone could experience and not actually be dead. They sent me back. Nice of them. Really nice of them, but they could have waited until _after_ the brain surgery.

-o-o-o-

There has been a change of staff up here where we are still waiting for news and I think that probably means it's approached morning and we are still sitting waiting for news. I think I might have drunk twenty mugs of coffee and Morgan probably has had almost as many. I should have gone home and had some sleep. I will have to be in work in a few hours and I sitting here in a slightly crumpled suit and I'm sure my eyes have that tell tail sign of coffee over dosage to them. That wide almost manic look which people get and which Morgan seems to be displaying. Neither of us though have any intention of giving up and going home yet. We both have to see this through probably for different reasons but nonetheless we are still both here, sitting or standing or pacing in silence. When finally a doctor enters the small area we are in Morgan and I both leap to our feet and probably for both of us it was a bit too fast for our brains to cope with. I see Morgan has rested an unsteady hand on the arm of a chair to keep his balance and I am rubbing at my temples trying to get the room to stop spinning.

'Agent Hotchner?' The doctor is looking at us both and so I give him a quick nod.

'You have news for us?' Please let there be news so that I can go home.

'He is out of surgery and is up on HDU. He gave us quite a fright. He woke up during surgery.' I watch the doctors adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows when he remembers what happened.

'Is he going to be alright?'

'I really cannot predict the outcome Agent Hotchner. There is extensive brain damage; a lot of scaring and oddities and though we've stopped the bleed I'm not very convinced that this is going to have the outcome we are hoping for.'

'Can we see him?' Morgan wants to know.

The doctor shakes his head. 'Now is not a good time. He is being kept in a coma until we can see how the surgery went. The pain would be too much for him to manage if we awoke him now. I suggest that you both go home and get some sleep. Mr Flanders isn't going anywhere.'

I give the doctor a quick nod. 'I need medical reports kept.' Of course they will keep them, but I need to make sure I've actually said that. 'He is a very violent man, I need to know if what happened could have effected his ability to see what he was doing.'

'I understand completely Agent Hotchner and though I am not a mental health professional and so can only give my opinion as a surgeon, I cannot see how this man could have been anything but insane. Though I'm sure you will test him for such once he is able to talk to you, which I think is going to be a while.'

Morgan walks over to me now and puts an arm on my shoulder. 'I'm going to book into the motel next door. I don't think I'm awake enough to make it home. Should I book you a room too?'

I nod at Morgan and try to give him a smile but it doesn't really come out as one. 'I'll be right with you Derek.' And I give my cell number to the doctor and I remind him to keep Flanders restrained and he nods at me and tells me he will call if there is any change.

-o-o-o-

I thought I would have fallen straight to sleep after my night out with Gary, but I got home and put on coffee and while that got ready to drink I had a shower; a deep intense shower. I scrubbed every part of myself I could get to and though I was feeling slightly sore I made certain that _everywhere_ was properly cleaned and once I'd done that I repeated my actions and washed again and then I got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself and stood in front of the wash basin and scrubbed my teeth clean. Once that was done I returned to the shower and thrice more repeated my usual or for some unusual washing routine. I just didn't seem to be able to get rid of the smell of Gary. No matter how much soap I used I could still smell him. I could still feel him too, but that wasn't so bad. Actually I would have been disappointed had I gone through all of this and had no physical reminder of it. I pulled on my bathrobe and walked to the kitchen and grabbed a coffee. It was by now coming up to morning and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep which was irritating me somewhat. I wanted to curl up and wrap my arms around myself and pretend I was being held tight by someone and I was going to insist that was what my dreams were going to be about. No monsters, and no pain, I just needed that feeling that I was wanted and – well not loved so much as just needed. I need to feel needed, but with the coffee in my hand and the ache in my head I knew that sleeping was just not going to happen. I thought about Floyd for a very short while and then for a slightly longer while. I wanted him to come barging into the apartment. I wanted him to demand who I'd been with. I wanted to see the hurt rage on his face, because that is how I know I am wanted. That is how I knew Floyd needed me. I wanted to feel his hand on my neck and feel the adrenaline again surge through my body as I denied what I had done even though I _knew_ that he knew every detail. It wouldn't have been the same if I admitted what I did. He wouldn't have he same rage and I wouldn't get what I needed. However Floyd didn't come through the apartment door. I checked. I went and unlocked the door and pulled it open on the security chain, just to make sure that he wasn't there waiting, but I knew he wasn't. I still checked. Probably I checked too many times, but I did it anyway. I checked the phone also. Even though I knew he would never call me. I still checked it. I turned on my cell phone and I opened my drapes and looked out over the street below to see if his bike was there. Over and over I checked the door and the phones and the window. I checked the bedroom window. I pulled open the closet and checked to see if his clothes were there. They weren't. I wasn't expecting them to be, but sometimes hope over rides logic.

Email.

I turned on my laptop and checked there. Maybe I should have done this first. It would have saved me a lot of pacing and angst.

The message was addressed to my normal email address. Nothing strange there, it was the sender who caught my attention. I had over a hundred emails there waiting for me to read. Most of them from libraries or universities about enquires I'd made about some subject or book. This one though jumped out like it was screaming at me. Sure it could just have been junk mail. I had my fair share of that too. Messages inviting me to join the financial revolution and post things all over Google to get paid stupid amounts of money. This one though stood out. The sender was "I Am Watching You" at a hotmail account. I sat and just looked at it for a while before clicking on the message to see what it said. It was a mathematical equation. I ran my fingers over the numbers quickly working it out in my head and biting on my bottom lip at the same time. I reached the bottom of the message and I'd worked out the answer, which made me smile slightly, the answer was 666. He was watching me. I know.

-o-o-o-

I was woken up. I didn't realise I'd fallen asleep but a hand on my bare shoulder was shaking me. 'Wake up you dirty little shit.' Well it wasn't Aaron that much was for sure. I wanted to ignore him so I curled up tighter and as a result was dragged from the bed. 'Get up and get dressed. I'm taking you to your lovely new school. You have five minutes to get ready and get into the kitchen.' He left me sitting on the floor next to the bed and he left leaving the door open. Where the hell was Aaron? My first night supposedly under is supervision and he'd left me with a freaking psychopath! I didn't want to annoy him more than I had to and so I slowly got dressed. It was slow because unsurprisingly I was in a bit of pain from the kicking I got the night before. My balls were aching and not in a good way which I could happily relieve. Actually I think that might be a sport I'll have to give up for a few days. My clothes were crumpled and messy and I could smell myself and it wasn't a very nice smell either. I'm used to being dirty, that doesn't bother me, but I really honked this morning and I would have loved a shower. I pulled on my boots and looked at my hand. It seemed more swollen than it was yesterday and my fingers hurt to move. Surely something is broken? I should have been taken to hospital. With a sigh I left my room and walked to the kitchen where Green was standing. He'd readied me a bowl of cereal and there was a jug of milk sitting next to it.

'Hurry up.' He snapped as I sat down in front of it. I didn't feel like eating. I felt more like shoving the whole bowl down his damned throat but I held back and scowled at him.

'I'm not hungry.'

'I don't give a shit. Eat it. Hurry up.'

I poured on the milk which looked watered down and stared at the muck he wanted me to eat. I took a mouthful and immediately wanted to vomit. What the hell was this?! The milk tasted sour and the cereal tasted like it'd been left out on the counter for a month. I've eaten some bad stuff in my time but this was probably the number one revolting thing I've ever been forced to eat. He watched every damned mouthful and added the words "get a fucking move on" occasionally. Damn he's going to be in trouble when I tell Aaron! He's arse is going to be in fire! As the last mouthful gets reluctantly shoved into my mouth he snatches away the bowl and jug and pulls the spoon from my hand. I sit and watch as he rinses them off and places them all in the dishwasher and turns it on to wash with just those three things in it. Yes the man is potty. He is totally cracked and I will get my revenge for making me eat that shit.

He walks to the front door and I guess that's my cue to get up and follow him. My head feels funny and light and my eyes are not focussing properly and I have a god-awful gut ache, but I follow him anyway. I guess the kicking he gave me hurt more than I'd like to admit.

We rode to the school in silence. I would have asked Aaron a million and one questions about this place but I didn't want to talk to Green. He'd not give me comforting answers anyway I don't think. The building we finally pull up in front of after going through gates you had to press a button and talk to someone to get through is a big modern monstrosity and I don't want to go in there. It looks like a fucking prison and I'm coming out in a sweat thinking about having to go in that place.

'I don't feel well.' I say miserably.

'Tough. Get out.'

And so I do and I realise that I'm shaking and sweating and my legs can hardly hold me up. I don't think this is fear about going in there; this is something else. 'I really don't feel well.' I mutter again as I look at the big dark doors he is dragging me towards.

'I don't give a damn. This is where I was told to bring you so this is where you're going.'

'I mean it. I think I coming down with something.'

'You'll be coming down with a another kick between those stinking piss scented legs of yours if you don't quit complaining.'

I make a decision then. I will do what he wants; for as long as my legs can hold me up and then I'll do a runner and I'll find the clan and go back to what I was doing before. It was shit but not as shit as this. Why am I on my knees?

'Get up!' and he's pulling at the back of my dungarees. 'What the hell is wrong with you?' and I am hoisted back to my feet and pushed through the doors.

I'm really not too sure about what happened for the next hour or so. I know I saw a bloke who was probably the principle of the school. I know Green left me with the guy and he did a lot of talking to me, but I can't remember what he said. I had a bit of paper shoved across a table at me and told to sign it and I sort of remember doing that, though I have no idea what the fuck it was I signed. I have a horrible feeling it was a "Your arse is now mine" deal I made though. I'm then given another bit of paper with some writing on it and as hard as I stare at it I can't make out the words. It could be in Greek for all I could tell. I rubbed at my eyes and squinted at it again and still it made no sense whatsoever. I heard a bell ringing somewhere, but I might have imagined it and I'm sweating like a freaking pig and I can smell my smells even stronger. I finally say.

'I can't read it.' In a very miserable voice. 'I don't feel well. I feel sick and too hot and…..' he doesn't let me finish.

'It's your timetable. Only two classes for now and a lot of empty spaces where you can start learning how to socialise. I suggest tomorrow that you arrive without intoxicating yourself first. It makes life easier if you're not doped.'

I shake my head at him. 'I'm not. I just feel really ill.' And I hear the door open behind me.

'Mackie, this is Sam. Escort him to the day room and introduce him to some people will you. Apparently he can't read so can you go over the timetable with him.'

'I can read. Usually I can read.' I squint at the paper again and still it is just a jumble of shapes.

'Sort him out will you?' They guy says to this Mackie person, who looks through my fuzzy vision to be a tall skinny kid.

'Oh yes. I'll sort him out.'

And I don't like the way he said that.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10 Strike Three

Strike Three

* * *

You know something? Had the medications they used on me actually worked then I might have not been feeling like someone just tore out half of my brain. Unfortunately I can feel it but I can't wake up enough to let them know that their screwed drugs are causing me just a tiny little bit of discomfort. For some ungodly reason they have stuffed a tube down my throat to keep my lungs going. Breathe in; breathe out. Bleep, bleep fucking bleep! I want to take a real big lungful and try to clear the pain in my head but the machinery wont allow for that. Breathe in; breathe out. Bleep, bleep, bleep…

I have to let them know that I am actually awake and the only way I can think to do that is to stop that bleeping noise which is letting them know that my heart has not packed up on me. This isn't going to be easy. Usually if I wanted to stop my heart I'd stop my breathing too, but that's not an option. The other way to do it is just to concentrate real hard, but either way I seem to stop my breathing and my heart. I don't know if I can do just one of them and equally I don't know if I can concentrate for long enough to get the desired effect. Maybe I can open my eyes and let them know I'm awake, well I would open them but I think they've taped my eyes shut.

And the bleep bleep bleep carries on and the sound of the machine forcing me to breathe can be heard over the sound of my heart thumping all too healthily in my chest.

Breathe in and breathe out. Someone for fuck's sake stop this damned machine! Someone unplug it! I can breathe damn you! I have a plan. As I cannot stop my heart by slowing it then I'll just have to speed it up a bit. Not such a good option for me because that will cause extra pain whereas just stopping it doesn't seem to do much at all. (and I'd get the orgasmic pleasure of being zapped back to life), so here goes nothing. Kill or cure. I listen out for those bleeps.

Bleep, bleep, bleepbleep, bleep, bleepbleepbleepbleep….and now the sound of alarms going off and if there are more bleepings I can't hear them over the rush of people suddenly around my bed. I want to scream at them to turn off the sodding machines, but they are stupid. They are complete morons and they can't read my mind even slightly. I feel a scratching stinging on the top of my thigh and I can hear mutterings and murmurings but I can't actually hear what they are saying and for now I don't give a shit where I am or what's going on all I care about is that something is going on in my head. Something bad. Something crushing and tearing and bulging out and popping and I can feel blood crawling out of my nose. I need my snort. I need to fix things, but I'll do it later. I really cant be arsed to do anything but lay here and listen to that comforting sound of the bleeping which means I'm still alive. Maybe.

-o-o-o-

I slept well in this motel room. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was sleeping. I assume I was anyway as I don't remember lying there for hours going over things in my mind as I would do normally. Both Morgan and I managed to get a few hours sleep in before we both decided that it was time to move on and get back to work. I gave the hospital a ring but they said there was little or no change and they had nothing really to report back except for the irregular heart beats they got a short while ago. It was sorted now though and as he was still being kept sleeping there was no point in going to visit. It feels wrong though. It feels as though I should be there watching him and waiting, but we have a job to do. I have a job to do. I need to get back and lead my team and get the results back from the lab and see if they came up with anything from the rounds they managed to pull from the victims.

Morgan and I went our separate ways. Neither of us could go into work in the clothes we'd been wearing so we each took detours on the way back to the office to change. I'd showered at the motel to attempt to wake myself up a bit and get my head together first. It's not until I open my front door that it suddenly hits me that I Sam and Green were here. How I managed to forget such a thing is beyond my comprehension. The guilt that I left Sam with someone he hardly knows and was obviously having problems with washed over me but I had not time to dwell further on that now. They were both gone and the house was still standing and there were no signs that anyone was butchered in the night so I have to assume all was good. I quickly change my clothes and then give Green a call from my cell phone. He tells me that everything was fine. He'll be picking Sam up later and will bring him back and wait until I get home. He sounded as tired as I felt and I wondered if there was something he wasn't telling me, but I decided to wait until tonight. Now I have to go to work and see how far along the case has come in my temporary absence. I'm expecting a talking to from Strauss but that's to be expected. I've been lax and my mind hasn't been on my job. It has been firmly fixed on Flanders and it shouldn't have been. A quick change and I am back in my car and on my way to work.

-o-o-o-

Kelly was standing in her sparse white kitchen waiting for a delivery. She liked to purchase things online rather than going to the shop and getting things herself. She had this image she needed to keep up and being seen by someone where maybe she shouldn't be was not what she wanted to happen. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a tight green vest top when the doorbell rang. She started to walk from the kitchen with the dish cloth still in her hand but dashed back and placed it on the white work surface as she called out 'I'm coming!' to he delivery man. Her hair was short and dyed black and her eyes where probably slightly too made up for a cleaning session in the morning, but it made her feel good. She never went anywhere without her makeup on and her smile on her face. Her nails were painted a deep red which matched the lipstick she had carefully applied about an hour previously and on her feet she had a pair of jogging shoes. Not that she went jogging, but they were comfortable and looked the part she played when she was at home.

Her hand clasped the door handle and she pulled it open. Kelly didn't even have time to stop smiling; even as the barrel of the gun pushed gently against that area between her over painted eyes. If she had lived she would have felt the door brushing against her as it was closed silently. She might have even got up and seen the man pick up something from the ground with his blue gloved hands, but she didn't. Kelly was very dead and she was still smiling. The hole in the front of her head didn't even damage the makeup she'd put on. She was an attractive corpse, but it was a warm day and the flies were soon there buzzing around and crawling over her face and swimming around in the mess the back of her head had made on the rug.

-o-o-o-

I follow this Mackie person down the corridor. I've taken an immediate dislike for him and I don't think he's particularly taken by me either. The corridor is I suppose much like any high school. The walls are white and they are mostly lined with lockers and the occasional notice board. It's mostly clean though. There's no scribblings on the walls and nothing phallic drawn on the locker doors. Not yet anyway. Maybe this isn't such a typical high school setting after all. And I'm telling you this as someone who's never stepped a foot inside a school before. So what the hell do I know about it anyway?

'In here.' Mackie boy pushes open a door which leads into a long large room full of chairs. There's probably twenty or so kids sitting in there chatting to each other in subdued tones. Again I'm wondering how typical this scene is. There's something off about it, there's something very wrong and it's sending my nerve endings all a quiver. I don't move. I just stand and look into the room.

'I'm not going in there.' I tell the boy. He's only a kid like me. He can't tell me what to do can he?

'You got a problem with interaction and socialisation?' He looks honestly curious.

'No. I've got a problem with that room. I'm not going in there.' It looks too open. Too many sides I can't keep an eye on. Great ambush country. I'm not going in there.

'What the hell is wrong with the room Sam? It was Sam wasn't it?' He's grabbed my arm and is trying to push me past the doors which I have a horrible feeling will lock behind me and I'll be swallowed forever in that room full of plastic chairs and false people.

'Yeah it's Sam. Look Mackie, I don't want to cause trouble but I don't give a shit if I'm meant to go in there or not. I'm not going in there.' My eyes are locked on the room taking in everything I can. Looking for other exits and watching the boys who have now stopped chatting in that odd quiet way and they're all looking at me. Staring at me. Sizing me up. Seeing how easy it's going to be to take me down. Those nerve endings of mine are going mental. I know something's amiss and there is now freaking way in hades I'm going to step into that room. My mind is so occupied with these thoughts that I don't hear Mackie calling over to some other guys for some assistance. I do however see them slowly get up and walk towards me and I'm trying to back away and get away from those doors and as far away from that creepy room as I can but Mackie boy has a hold of my arm and isn't going to let me go. 'Get the fuck off me!' And I'm pulling at his hand and watching the other guys get slowly closer and closer but Mackie's fingers just dig deeper into my arm.

'It's his first day.' I hear Mackie saying. 'Be gentle with him. He's like a scared girl.'

And suddenly there are four more tall skinny guys and one short fat one grabbing my clothing and smiling at me and dragging me forward. I mean dragging me too! I'm pulled by them into the room and over the tiled green and white floor and I'm screaming at them to let go of me. I faintly hear the door close behind me and I'm sure I hear the locks clicking across and so I go into a full head on panic, but it's too late now. They're not even bothering to hold onto me now and so I let my legs fold under me and I curl up on the floor waiting for what I know is going to come next. I know I'm going to be kicked. I know they're going to do something bad and there are too many of them for just me. I wait and I wait. It seems like an eternity and rather than feeling that maybe I was wrong and they're not going to attack me I just feel the energy in the room build and build and my eyes are squeezed shut and maybe I'm making whimpering sounds but maybe not and the tension of having to wait for the attack is getting too much. I'm going to explode. I'm going to scream at them to get it over with, but I don't yet. I'm holding it back and trying to do what I think maybe my dad would do, or what Aaron would do and that is not to panic and definitely not to cry or piss myself. My head feels so wrong. I feel too hot. I can feel the sweat running down my face and it's making me stink more than I was already. When a hand finally touches my shoulder I do scream. I curl up tighter and I howl not in pain, but in shock and rage and confusion.

'Sam?' It's a female voice and I don't know who this could be. It's not one of the kids. 'Sam?' Again she says and she's trying to push me onto my back. 'Get up Sam.'

'Fuck off you whore! Fuck off and don't touch me you son of a bitch whore dog! Get your hands off me!' And I can hear the silence as my words echo around the room.

'Sam it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. Just sit up for me please.'

'Don't you fucking talk to me! You and your filthy words you bitch! I know what you have planned.' I am so enraged that I don't really know what I'm thinking now. I'm getting hotter though and I need to pee and I think I might…yes I'm going to chuck up that lovely breakfast I had earlier. I manage to roll onto my front and push up on my hands and vomit a spray of cereal and lumpy milk onto the floor in front of me. My stomach heaves and turns and I expel another load. Vaguely I can feel a hand on the back of my neck; a cool hand and it should feel comforting, but I just get the feeling that another hand is going to rest on my head and twist and snap my neck faster than I can blink. I crawl forward squishing through the mess I've made on the floor and I now have my eyes open and OK there are tears but it's not for any real reason other than I think I'm going to die. I can see pairs of feet gathering around me and I start shouting obscenities at the feet which I know are going to start kicking me soon. 'Just don't touch me! I didn't mean to do it. Whatever it is you think I've done. Just don't touch me!' And the hand has gone from my neck but rests on my shoulder.

'Sam. Listen to me. You're not in trouble. I'm just worried about you.'

'Fuck you!' No one ever worries about me unless they want something from me. That's how life is. Screwed up and painful. And when the hand touches the small of my back I know what's going to happen. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind and vomit flies out of my mouth and down my nose and I think probably I pass out right there in my puddle of spew.

When I next open my eyes I realise that I'm no longer lying on the floor of that room but across some squashy chairs in a much smaller room. As I sneak and peak around me I see a woman sitting looking at some thing in a folder. She's probably in her fifties and has a pair of round metal framed glasses on. She's in a purple pair or pants and a loose smock top sort of thing. I take in a deep breath and immediately regret it. The stink I had previously is nothing compared to what I smell of now. She must sense me eying her cos she puts the folder down and looks across at me and gives me a big smile.

'Good, you're awake at last.'

I think it's the same voice I heard earlier talking to me.

'My head hurts.' I mutter as I push up on shaking arms and sit on the chair but butt was resting on.

'I expect it does Sam. I can get you a head ache pill if you want.' She doesn't seem to have any malice in her and I sort of feel slightly bad about swearing at her the way I did.

'Naaa, no ta, I'll be OK.' I rub at my eyes and my temples with my finger tips. Whatever was making me feel woozy and wrong earlier seems to just be making me feel headachy and a bit sickly now. I'm still too hot though.

'I was going to have a talk with you today anyway Sam. So when you're up to a little chat let me know. Would you like something to drink? You look hot. Maybe some water?' She gestures over to the water dispenser in the corner of the room but she doesn't get up to get me anything and so I slowly slide my arse off the chair and walk over to it. I'm shaking. I can feel my knees wanting to shake themselves down to make me crawl but I bite on my bottom lip and keep going. It's not until I've walked the approximately ten paces that I realise that my hands are shaking too much for me to hold the damned cup under the water thing. I just stand and look at my hands for a while and then turn and look at the purple woman.

'I can't do this.' I hold the cup out and show her how much my hands are shaking and she nods at me and gets up and walks over.

'Go back and sit. I'll bring you a drink.'

I notice that she is very careful not to touch me. Which is a good thing cos I really don't want to have to kill her. I go back and sit on the nearest chair and lean back resting my head on the wall behind me. I take the drink when it's offered to me and again she's awful careful not to touch me. I mutter a thank you to her and sip at the ice cold water, missing my mouth slightly and getting it down my front. I can see the dried on vomit and other bodily fluids encrusted on my clothes and I sigh and look up at her.

'I stink,' I inform her and she nods at me.

'That's not something you need to worry about right now Sam. Would you like something to eat?'

'I think my stomach would object very strongly to having anything put into it right now.' I pick at the bits stuck to my front.

'Do you mind if we have a chat? My name is Clara, and I'm a mental health worker. I work for the school. I'm not a police officer or anything like that. I'm not going to accuse you of anything. I need you to understand that. I'm just here to help you.'

I sip and spill some more of the water. 'I don't need your help Clara. Nice offer though.'

She's making notes in that folder of hers. 'Can you tell me how you were feeling when Mackenzie took you into the social room?'

My stomach rolls horribly and that feeling that someone was there waiting for me returns so fast that I have to lean forward and give up the little bit of water I'd drunk and leave a watery puddle on the floor between my feet.

'I don't want to talk about it.' I cough and gag and spit up some lumps of something and grind it into the carpet stuff with my boot. She's watching me and writing things down.

'That's OK, if you don't want to talk about it Sam. I don't want to pressure you. I just want to make sure it doesn't happen again.'

'It won't happen again missy. I'm not going in that fucking room. End of story. No discussion and no compromise. I'm not fucking doing it.' _Cough, gag, spit._

'How about we talk about you for a little while then. Maybe that will make you feel more comfortable.'

I look over at her and give her a half smirk and nod. She wants to know about me? I'll give her something to think about and write in her damned folder. 'I'm fine with that. Nothing much to say about me really.'

She smiles at me again and it's beginning to bug me and my head is still pounding and my water is spewed all over the floor. I want her to stop smiling.

'Tell me about your mother.'

I give her the smallest of frowns. 'My mother was just a birthing vessel. She had no part in raising me.' She writes something down.

'What about your father?'

'He's a psychopath. Probably. Actually I don't know what he is, but he's a mean bastard. Wasn't around much though. I've only met him a few times. I know more about him through the stories they tell.' I watch as she writes more things down.

'Who did you live with before you went to live with Aaron?'

My frown deepens. 'Well missy to be honest with you I've not really gone to live with Aaron have I? Yes I was at his house but he left me in the care of some insane fucker who kicked me in the balls and I think he poisoned me too. So living with Aaron hasn't actually happened. He's like everyone else. They make promises and they only keep the bad ones. They promise to do something good you can guarantee it wont happen, but promise to fuck someone over and you can bet your arse it's going to happen pretty soon. That's life though Miss Clara. I'm not really too surprised that it's worked out like this.' I take a careful sip of water. 'I will move on I expect. No point in hanging around in the hopes that goodwill actually means more than a few words as you're running in the other direction.'

She's writing lots down now so I wait for her to finish.

'Can you tell me who your primary care giver was before you met Aaron?' She's changed her wording slightly to fit the mood I'm in.

'I was raised by the clan. There was no one person.'

'There must have been someone to tuck you in bed at night and prepare your meals and someone for you to go to when you were feeling under the weather.'

I shake my head. 'Only Louis. But he was just there for the punishments. I tucked my self into bed. We ate as a community and when I was ill then I just curled up somewhere dark and waited for it to go away. It's not a good thing to show weakness you know.' She seems to be getting me to tell more truths here than I expected. 'I feel really tired. I think I want to go home.'

'A few more questions?'

'No. I've said enough. I want to go home and have a shower.'

'Well you cant go home yet Sam. We have already called your home and no one is there. You can stay here until you are picked up later. I can arrange a shower for you if that will make you feel better.'

I crush the stupid paper cup thing in my hand and throw it across the room in a shaky pissed off temper. 'Yeah, a shower will be good.' I can feel tingling behind my eyes and a hate for everything except that which is going to be available to my hands in the shower. 'Please. I really do need a shower.' And I stand wobbling slightly.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11 Lesson

Lesson

* * *

What was left of the team gathered around the round table and looked down at the results back from the lab. There was not a lot to go on. The rounds pulled from the two victims were too distorted to get any real information from. Two shell casings had been picked up from the scenes and again there was nothing to tell. One of them had been trodden on and any evidence which it might have held was gone. The other though in better condition still revealed nothing more than the fact that it was likely from a Glock. We had the size of the round and we knew from the autopsy that the women had been shot at point blank range probably with some kind of silencing device, though it wouldn't have totally silence anything, just muffled the sound slightly. If the weapon had been pressed against the victim even more sound would have been muffled. No one had reported any unusual noises. No one had seen anything. No reports of strange cars parked in the streets no reports of strange activity. The victims seemed to live fairly normal lives considering their jobs and apparently didn't bring work home with them, though both women had a large collection of pornography most of it was their own work. No more threats had been made to Arrowman and as far as we knew at this point there were no more victims.

'I want Arrowman brought in. We need to talk to him again. There has to be a connection between these two women. A connection other than the obvious. He has a lot of people working for him. We need a list and I want each interviewed.'

Emily flicked through the folder in front of her. 'I don't understand why someone who was so careful not to be seen or cause suspicion could be thoughtless enough to leave the casings behind.'

'He's very sure of himself.' Morgan added. 'Maybe it didn't matter to him.'

Emily looked over at him. 'Or her. Maybe it's one of the other girls employed by Arrowman? Someone who has lost work to these two women.'

I nod at Prentiss. 'I will leave you and Morgan to go out and talk to the other girls. See if there is anything they know about a disgruntled employer or client.'

'We don't have enough for a profile.' Morgan slapped his folder closed and rubbed at his eyes. He looked as tired as I felt and I was seriously wondering if we as a team could handle this with everything else going on. Dave seemed to be the only person not being effected by what was going on.

-o-o-o-

I looked at the message on my computer screen until my eyes started to water. He is out there somewhere and he knows what I am doing. Is this message to tell me that he knew what I did last night? Is he just guessing? Is this a warning to stop? I need to go and think about it. It seems like forever since I last had a proper sleep and now I feel ready. I make a point of pulling the drapes closed again and keeping just a small side light on in the now darkened room. I check and double check that the door is locked and barred and secure and that the alarm system is on. I know it will make no difference if Floyd wants to pay a visit. He'll just open the door as though I'd never locked it, but that's not a problem. Actually I hope that he does make a magical appearance some time during the day. If I prayed I would ask whoever it is who I'd be talking to, to please have Floyd here holding me when I awaken, but I don't pray. I just curl up in my bed and pull the covers over me in the dim light and hope.

I used to have dreams. Weird and wonderful and sometimes terrifying, but now I realise that they were just my memories which had been pulled away from me appearing as my mind relaxed. Now I am hoping for more. At least in my dreams I don't have to worry about what Gary did and how stupid I was for letting him do that to me, although at the time I couldn't stop him, I should have said something before hand. I just didn't think to. My brain was functioning on half power. The adrenaline flooding my nerve endings until all sense was gone.

For now though I drift off into a warm place with the wind blowing gently in the trees and the feel of the bark beneath my hands and the smell of Floyd close behind me and this is a good dream. I am feeling wanted and needed as me and not just as something to use and discard. Although the language and words Floyd is using is not of a loving nature he knows it's what I like.

-o-o-o-

I fall downwards in this strange darkness with the noise of the machines around me and the tube forcing me to breathe and I slide right down next to Spencer. It's not something I do very often. I don't sleep. I don't dream. These drugs though have forced me into an unusual position. Well really not that unusual if you consider it that way. I can feel Spencer under my hands and I can hear his soft groans and moans as I take him here in this forest. This is the way things should be. This is how I wanted things to be with Spence and I, but sods law – no pun intended – won't let me have what I want. It teases me and makes me think that I'll finally get my prize and then it's gone again. I've never had this problem with anyone before, but maybe before my feelings have been different. My mind not so full of what I want that everything else gets forgotten and abandoned. He smells so good. That man smell of sweat and sex and lust and need, with just a tinge of blood. Everything is so perfect. That is likely to be what is so different with Spencer. He is perfect. Not just the way he looks and will fold and take what I offer, but the whole damned package. The smell, the feel of his skin under my rough hands, the way he pushes back so needy, his need for me and that damned mouth of his. I've yet to meet another mouth quite a fuckable as Spencer's. And he demands nothing in return. That's the icing on the cake. He even breaks my little rules purposefully to get me riled in his need to get slapped around. How much more perfect can you get?

I'm going to get out of this damned hospital though. I need to get them to see that I'm able to breathe on my own and that my condition is temporary. I really do need to get out and pay a visit to dear Gary. And though in this lovely little dream I am having, which is not so much a dream as a virtual fucking, all seems so well and wonderful, I have to admit that my head is killing me.

-o-o-o-

She was laying back on the couch when the door opened and he walked into the apartment. She could tell he looked stressed even though he was attempting to smile and look as though nothing was wrong. She always knew when something was wrong with her big brother though. The way he walked was slightly different. The way he slid off his jacket and put it on the coat hook in the hallway. He hadn't come home last night, but she wasn't going to ask what he was doing. She never bothered to ask anymore as he would never tell her, even though she knew some of his late nights had nothing to do with his job. Considering he was her brother and they shared this place she really didn't know much about his day to day life. She shifted slightly on the couch as he walked in and just stood looking at her.

'Have you got off that couch since I was last here?' His voice was low and unfriendly.

Again she shifted slightly and the pain in her head was making her eyes water. 'I don't feel so good.' She muttered as she fiddled with her messy hair.

'You need to wash that damned hair of yours. You're a mess.' He now moved and sat down stiffly in the chair he always used.

'I said, I'm not feeling so good.'

He looked over at her and his top lip curled slightly in disgust. She was pale and too thin. Yes she was younger by seven years but she looked ten years older. Drugs do that to you. They ruin you. They take away from you what you really are and put something else there. An impostor. This wasn't little sister Cindy anymore. This was some sort of vile replacement. He could tell she'd taken something over the last day or so, but like her he'd given up asking questions about it. She lied. She refused to admit what was going on.

'You'd feel better if you got your ass up off the couch and had a shower. When did you last eat?'

He received a shrug as a reply. With a long deep and possibly over dramatic sigh he hoisted himself out of his chair again. 'I'll get you something to eat. You go have a shower and fix yourself up a bit.'

The irritation showed on her sunken face. 'I don't want food and I don't want a shower. Just leave me be will you? What's the point in fixing myself up huh, what the hell is the point in anything anymore?'

He walked towards the door leading to the kitchen. 'Well you never know, you might get a call.' And he walked out of the room leaving the door open behind him to see what if anything there was to eat.

'No one is going to call me!' She shouted out to him. 'Why don't you just give it a fucking rest? It's over.'

'It's not over Cindy.' He called back. 'I'm sorting things for you. You fix yourself up and you'll see. They'll be calling you again.'

She slumped back down onto the couch muttering under her breath wondering why he wont just leave things alone. Let it be as it is.

-o-o-o-

The showers were a big block with lots of shower heads looking down at me. I quickly stripped off the clothes I had on and pulled on a lever which said "on" and "off" on it. I put it in the "on" position and waited for a minute for the water to warm up. I'd been given a little bar of soap and I had a plan on what I was going to do with it, apart from soaping that is. It felt good. The water was lovely and hot and it was stinging my skin, but I didn't mind. It seemed to be clearing my head a bit and I gave myself a quick soaping to get the smells of yesterday and today off me. Not that it would matter when I put my vomit drenched clothes back on again, but for now it was good. Very good. I crouched and leaned my back on the wall. The water was still coming down and keeping me nice and wet as I comforted myself with one hand and sent the small bar of soap on an exploratory expedition. Eyes closed and relaxed for the first time in what seemed fucking ages I let my defences down. I let them right down; so far down that it wasn't immediate that I noticed that the water had stopped. Slowly I lifted my head and let go of the soap and stuff and looked up into the eyes of Mackie and his honchos standing there looking at me.

'You disgusting little freak.'

I have to assume that remark was directed at me as it was me they were all looking at. Slowly I got to my feet; very slowly and I made sure I kept my back securely against the wall, but whilst I moved in slow motion they were all in fast forward. I can put up a fight though and I did. I scratched and bit and kicked out at them, but there seemed to be hands every damned where. Almost every damned where anyway. There were some places they seemed to be keeping their hands clear of. My attempt to get to my feet was none too successful. I was flat on my back and being held down by these bastards before I had managed to straighten up properly. I could have shouted for help, but that's what kids do. Cowards call for help and I know from years of experience that help never arrives anyway. Best to keep your energy to recovering from the beating or whatever it is they're going to do to you. I figured by their reaction to what I'd been doing that my arse was safe from them and that was partly what was bothering me now. The Mackie kid had some things in his hand. I watched as they held me down and I saw him pass something to one of he other boys; a big fat brute of a boy with a nasty smile on his face.

'You have to understand something Sam.' Mackie crouched down next to me. 'I know who you are. Well at least I know you're friends with the FEDs and I'm not too inclined to like people who like that lot. I shot one you know. I was going to watch him die but some son of a bitch grassed on me. They nearly got me locked away somewhere real bad but I'm a good lad really.'

'Fuck you.' I finally said something. Not a very intelligent something, but I did speak.'

'You dirty little faggot.' He breathed over my face. 'I'm going to get you so screwed up you wont know what your name is anymore. I don't like friends of the FEDs and I don't like fags and I don't like whimpering little babies like you. Open your mouth sunshine. I have a gift for you. You don't have to say thank you.'

I clamped my teeth together and snarled 'Fuck you.' Again, cos I really couldn't think of anything else to say.

Mackie glanced up at the fat boy who had returned. 'Get his mouth open for me Leo.'

A large plump hand rested on my jaw and pressed thumbs and fingers into my flesh until he had done what the bastard ring leader fuck head wanted. I felt something slide between my lips and then the hand went over my mouth and nose and he held me there as I attempted not to swallow whatever it was. Not that it mattered really cos I could feel it disintegrating as it sat there under my tongue. It was around then that the room started to get dark and spinny and the hand was gone and the room was gone and I'm floating somewhere real nice. Really bloody wonderful. Actually whatever I'd been drugged with right then was pretty fine stuff.

-o-o-o-

Arrowman had been contacted and the list of names we requested was reluctantly forwarded. He'd not wanted to do it. 'It's private information you see.' He'd said. 'My girls don't advertise what they do. They like to keep it that way.' I explained that it was the only way for now that we could move forward. We would have to ask for a warrant if he was not willing to provide the information and that will take time and all the time we are twiddling our thumbs waiting his girls are at risk. 'All right, all right, I'll give you what you need, but just don't go harassing my girls unwarranted you know? They'd not like that I've done this. I might lose a few to some other up and coming would be king of porn if you upset them.' I gave as good a promise as I could managed and he was good to his word and forwarded what we needed. I left Rossi and Prentiss to sit and stare at the list of names and try to sort them into some kind of profile. There was something there somewhere, we just had to look in the right place. We needed Reid. He could see patterns in things which we cant see. He can sort seemingly unrelated information into neat little boxes and at least give us somewhere to start. I'd returned to my office to give him a call. I wasn't going to ask him to come in, but thinking of Reid made me realise that I'd neglected to check up on what Flanders had told me. I'd also not heard from the hospital again on Flanders condition. I could only assume that meant he was not dead yet. Then of course there is Sam, but I pushed him to the back of my list of things to do for now. Firstly I'd call Spencer. I was just about to reach for the telephone when it started to ring. More distractions. I picked it up and put the receiver to my ear.

'Hotchner.'

'_I think I have another problem.'_

It was Arrowman. 'I'm listening.'

'_One of my girls was due for a shoot today. She didn't turn up, and I know she'd not just turn up man, she was desperate for this shoot. I've called her home and her cell and they both ring for a while then go to answerphone. Just go check on her.'_

'I'll send someone over. Does she have any connection with the other two girls? And I need an address.'

'_Only that she works for me. They might…I'm not sure, I'll have to check up on something and come back to you on that. Just go check on Kelly will you. I know she'd not just not answer her calls. And I know damned well she'd turn up for that shoot. Man she virtually had an orgasm when I told her she had that job,'_

I got her full name and address and then asked Morgan to take someone and go over and quietly check on the girl. Be subtle. Don't kick down the door.

My next call was to Reid. It was with some trepidation that I lifted the receiver again and dialled his number. I still only had Flanders' word that he was home but for some reason I trusted his word. Rubbing at my temples and trying to figure out why my mind was so confused I listened to the ringing of the telephone.

'_Reid.'_

He answered it and now I don't actually know what I need to say to him. 'It's Hotch. I'm just checking that everything is alright. That you're alright.' Did I sound nervous? Will he pick up on that?

'_Hey Hotch! I'm just tired. Didn't sleep well last night.'_

I can hear the tiredness in his voice and now that I know he's fine, or at least sounds fine and is certainly at home I'm at a loss for what to say. 'I was told you were home again. I just needed to check up on that and make sure……….' He cut me off.

'_Floyd let you know? Have you seen him?'_

Though his voice is still sounding sleepy I can hear something else there. Worry? I'm not sure. 'I spoke to him yes. He told me you were home.'

'_I see, well yes I'm home and everything is fine. You don't need to worry. I'll get in contact with you next week, I just need to, I don't know, rest? I think I need to just rest. I'm tired.'_

Wrong. Everything sounds wrong, but I cant put my finger on what exactly it is. Is he standing there twisting his hands or rubbing his palms on the sides of his pants? Something is wrong, but maybe I'm just imagining it. I need to see him. I have to go over there and make sure he's not….not….I don't know! Again my head feels foggy and the decisions which in the past would come so easy have slipped back into some dark place and I'm finding them hard to reach. Maybe I need a rest too? Maybe it's me who's having the problem here and not Reid.

'_Hotch?'_

Again that slight quaver in his voice. 'I'm here Reid. Do you need anything?' I hear him sigh.

'_No, no everything is fine. I need to sleep. Sorry. I have to go and lie down.'_

I wonder if he is ill. I wonder if someone is there listening in. 'Let me know Reid. Keep in contact. We need you back at work when you're ready, but I need you to be well.'

'_Yes I understand. I have to go now.'_

And he's put the phone down his end. There was no bubble of life in his voice. That was what was wrong. He sounded empty. He didn't sound like the Spencer I knew. I wanted to go over and check up on him, but he's not a child. He might be part of the BAU, at least I _hope _he is still part of the BAU but he's not my responsibility right now. He has to get his own head together. I have to get my head together. I sit just looking at the receiver in my hand for a short while then gently replace it, almost as though if I wasn't careful I would hurt the person I'd been talking to. I rest my elbows on my desk and put my head in my hands and close my eyes. Too much. It's all too much. I cannot lead the team like this. I am failing. I failed Haley and Jack. I seem to have failed Sam already and now I am failing at my job. This is all I have. This is me. If I fail at this I have nothing left. Sometimes I wish I had the outlet that Morgan has. I wish I could shout and punch the desk and let people know how I am really feeling, but I cannot do that. I have to pull myself together. I have to lead my team. I have to visit Flanders – later.

-o-o-o-

They thought the new boy was dead when they first saw him lying curled up and naked in the showers. They stood and looked at him for a while until one of the adults arrived. No one touched him. They didn't want to get involved in such a thing. They didn't want to get the blame for this. One of the medical staff was called and the tall man in the white shirt and black pants told the other kids to move away and to get out of the shower block. He too stood and looked at the new kid lying there and waited for the others to leave. He then moved in and placed a hand on the boys white cold skin.

'Oh shit.' He muttered as his hand felt the coldness. He moved his hand to Sam's shoulder and pulled him over onto his back. He sort of just slid with his arms and legs splayed and his eyes open wide. There was a thick line of drool coming from the corner of his mouth. A hand on Sam's neck to see if there was a pulse. A hand on his chest to see if there was any movement there too, and for both he got a faint positive result. He now took to shaking him gently.

'Sam? Wake up boy.'

A small groan but nothing much else. The medic though not the most experience guy in the universe could clearly see that the boy was drugged. The medic crouched down next to him and shook him harder.

'Wake up!' Now he was shouting. Now he was angry. These damned kids did this sort of thing constantly. Either for recreation or to do what it looked like he'd done and attempted to end his life. Not on his shift he wasn't. Not now. He shook him harder and pushed him back onto his side. This time with his back facing him. He looked at the marks over the boy's back. Big bruises. Boot prints. He'd obviously been beaten but this wasn't recent. This hadn't just happened. Some of them were going yellow around the edges. He could also see a myriad of other marks over the boy's skin. Small scars on his back and legs and arms and he wondered if the fear of having to go back to where he got these was why he'd done what he had. The medic pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called the principle and told him what was going on. He then called for more medics and for Clara. They all needed to see this.

They took the boy away to the infirmary. They searched his clothing and removed from his pockets a couple of pills which they bagged to send to the infirmary with the boy. They needed to know what it was he had taken. They then came to the decision that though Sam had been brought in only that morning by a FED, it would be of the boy's best interest if he was admitted as a boarder and not a day boy. This child had a lot more going on in his head than he'd yet admitted to and they considered it unsafe for him to be returned home. At least until Sam could tell them what had happened and why he did such a thing. At least until they knew who had been kicking him and by the look of it something had happened to his hand too. Yes, they decided as a group and with Clara's understanding of what was going on by what he'd already told her, albeit that wasn't very much; it was enough to set of alarm bells. They would call the FED who was going to be picking Sam up and tell him not to bother. They would then call the FED who was _meant _to be caring for the boy and tell him to get over to the school as soon as he could spare the time.

If he could spare the time.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12 Third Roll of the Dice

Third Roll of the Dice

* * *

There are times in ones life when things start to take on a whole new look.

How long am I going to permit these bastards to keep me away from what I need and want? Spencer is mine. I claimed him so long ago that the memories of that first time are a bit fuzzy around the edges now. Not the actual act it self, no that will always be etched there as clear today as it was back then, but the circumstances leading up to it. Those long lazy days we had when he was still a kid and I was playing my first games with him. Harmless games back then. We went on adventures together and we took those first steps towards the tentative bonding. The first days; those early days were different. I'm not the bastard you think I am. Well at least I wasn't. I was there to protect him from school yard bullies. I was there for him on those rough days he had concerning his father. I was there for him when his mother was not quite as well as she could have been. I need those days back again. I'm not saying that I didn't feel the need to slap him around. I did feel that need and I think he did too and I complied with his wishes. Not too hard back when he was a kid though, but back then the lust building up inside of me was more controllable. I might be many things but I don't fuck kids; well not on a regular basis anyway (let us not drag Sam into this equation) and back then that's not what I needed him for. I needed to protect and comfort in different ways. Keep him safe. Keep him as mine. I wasn't there all the time back then. I'd go for months or years and not see him. I had no reason to. My job such as it was could be done from a distance, but I kept my eye on him. He might not have been able to see that I was there, but in reality I'm never gone.

What am I going to do about this situation then? These people who control me and who seem to have more and more control as the years go by need to be informed that I've had enough of them interference. I need to pull back from their tasks and their needs and be a selfish son of a bitch and pull myself up out of this mess and get back what is part of me. I honestly don't think that without Spencer in my life I can function fully. Right now I'm confined to this bloody hospital bed and they're pumping me full of things in an attempt to stop me waking up. They want my brain to heal, but it won't yet. I just need to convince the other players in this game that I need to be released. I have things I have to do. I need to sort things out and I have to protect Spencer and stop this downward spiral of self destruction he's going down. So I flip back over. I go back to hades and I am going to demand that they release me and I am going to be who I am and stop this shit they're piling on me.

I can feel my body sliding out of it self and faintly I can hear alarm bells ringing. I think my heart stopped. It's alright; that can happen. Give the staff something to do other than constantly moving me around and wiping stuff over my back and butt to stop any bed sores which might have appeared. They haven't and they won't, but I'm not going to complain about someone rubbing something good into my butt now am I?

At least this time I am standing on the floor and not lying down. This is a good sign. I am in a breechclout and nothing else, but that really isn't a problem. I'm used to this. Last time I lay and waited for them to come to me. This time I take off in big long strides out into the darkness. All roads lead to the same place here. Doesn't matter which direction I walk in and time is not a concept which really exists here so I cannot tell you how far I walked or how long it took but I can still here right in the back of my mind those alarm bells wailing and I can feel a terrible pressure in my chest. They'll be zapping me soon. I love a good zapping from those paddles. It's the next best thing to an orgasm. Sometimes even better; but not often.

I am slightly tempted to call out to them and demand their attention, but there is no real need. They know I'm here and they will know by now that I'm not the compliant bunny they want me to be. I'm not bottom of the fucking pile. I was one of the best and I'm clawing my way back up again. The only reason I fuck up so many times is their stupid rules. Yes I like rules and I need them so I can see which direction I am going in, but for the love of Pluto –may the gods bless her – now I feel a whole new me immerging. OK…not new…but one which has been sorely misplaced and misjudged for too long. I'll never be what I was and I don't think I want to be that again, I've been here in the dark for too long now. I think a white toga and pretty twinkly wings might just about kill me. I stand still now. I can feel that I've reached where I need to be. There is a strange smirk on my face and feeling of something inside of me ready to bust out and get creative on their arses.

'What?'

The voice finally asks me.

'What the fuck do you think? You know why I'm here.' I talk into the nothingness.

'The situation hasn't changed. Go back.'

'The damned situation has changed though hasn't it? I wouldn't be here had there not been some kind of shifting going on.' I walk in a small circle as I talk.

'The discussion is over. Go back or be replaced.' I hear the voice coming from all around me.

'The discussion as you put it is far from over. You won't and you cannot replace me. Stop with your pathetic empty threats because they mean fuck all to me.'

'There is no change. We have decided.' This time the voice is behind me and so I turn quickly to face the speaker.

'Can you not see it? I am not grovelling on your damned floor. I'm not going to go on my knees for you and making requests which you will shift and alter. I am making demands. You will send me back. You will remove the restrictions. I will have what is mine. I won my prize you cannot go changing your minds and telling me that the race I won now has a new finishing line. That's not how this game is played. You gave me my task. You wanted Rosa. I gave you her. Now I want what is rightfully mine. You will free me from these ties you've placed on me and allow me to enjoy what is mine.'

'If you really believe that my threats are empty then go. Do what you think you have to do, but don't you come back here showing your disgusting face when you mess things up again.' This time the voice has remained in front of me and if I squint into the darkness I can see the vague shape of something monstrous sitting there watching me. 'Go and take your prize but don't forget that with that comes the condition that you finish what you started. I want those people destroyed.'

'Well I cant fucking destroy them if you have me tied to a bloody hospital bed! I can't do my job if you take away from me what I need to complete it. Give me back what you took. Let me do what I need and you'll be amazed at how imaginative I can be.'

'Your imagination is in your fists and groin. That is all there is of you. Go.'

And the floor suddenly isn't there anymore and I'm falling and sliding and slithering back into my body just at the point they zap me with their beloved paddles.

-o-o-o-

I'm just about to sit and have something to eat when my cell rings. I sit and just look at it buzzing on the arm of the chair.

'Aren't you going to answer it?' Her nagging, nagging voice.

I pick it up and look at the caller. 'Oh for the love of god, now what?' I flip it open and put it to my ear. 'Green.' I snap and then listen to what the caller has to say. 'Fine.' I reply. 'Great. Just marvellous.' I pause. 'Well yes, do what you think you need to do. You want me to come over anyway?' I listen again to the superior voice on the other end. 'Well I'll just not bother then shall I? You seem to have everything under control there.' Another pause as I listen. 'Fine. Yes let me know, whatever. Goodbye.' And I flip it shut again. She's staring at me. Filthy and stinking she's lying there staring at me even though her eyes are closed. I thought she was going to say something but she doesn't. She's lying there on the couch again with the blanket pulled up over her. A relief. I didn't want to have to explain that call to her. I don't want to explain anything to her. I can smell her from here. I wouldn't be surprised if she had things crawling over her skin. I might have to check for that later. All this trouble I'm going through. All this stress and angst for her and she stinks. I stuff the sandwich into my mouth and try to take my eyes off her. She will get a call. I know she will in the end. They will want her back again. I'm sure of it. And then I can move out of this stinking hole and go back to my own nice clean apartment and my own nice clean life and forget this shit.

I get up and return my plate to the kitchen where I pile it up with the other dirty dishes. Not my job to do women's work but it doesn't look like my darling sister is going to do it. In a cupboard high on the wall is a pack of rat poison. I take it and look at the pack and smile. This certainly keeps the vermin under control. With great care I sprinkle some of this stuff around the edges of the cabinets in the kitchen…on the floor and then I walk back to where Cindy is lying probably sleeping again and I sprinkle some around the couch. I don't want to come back one day and find the rats have eaten her face off. Not that it would make too much difference now. I return to the kitchen and get some milk. Warm milk with something a little extra to give her a bit of a spark.

'Drink this Cindy.' I tell her and place the glass on the small table she has next to her. I've put a straw in the glass for her and as I sit myself back down on my chair and pretend to stare at the wall directly ahead, really I'm watching that skeletal hand with the skin which is turning yellow and tight move over and pick up the glass. Maybe I heard a ruffled 'Thank you.' But that might have been my imagination. I watch as she sips on the drink and then I get up again.

'I have to go out. You'll be OK?'

Was that a moan of assent?

Time to leave. 'Goodbye sis, I'll not be too long.'

-o-o-o-

We have what may or may not be a lead. We stand in the conference room and look at the list of name Arrowman gave us and a list of movies and photoshoots and other wonders he's involved in. I see raised eyebrows on Morgan and a frown coming from Prentiss. Dave has an unreadable expression on his face right now. There seems though to be a connection between the girls. Each of them though they had been working for Arrowman and his company for a while had been given an adjusted jobs list. One of his former employees had become ill and her "jobs" had been handed over to the other girls. It was a vague connection but the only one we had. Apart from that the three, because now we had three victims since Morgan had returned from his visit to check up on Kelly, had never worked together before. As individuals they had nothing in common; only the adjusted jobs listing. Arrowman told them that the other girl had been fired. She got too heavily into drugs, her looks were going, she was constantly late and just didn't come up to scratch anymore. He had her last known address but he assured us that if she was still in the state she was in last time he saw her she'd not be able to hold a gun up let alone have the strength to fire it.

'The force would blow her off her skinny little feet.'

He told us.

Her working name was Cin Haven and as she didn't live too far from here I decided to send Morgan and Dave over to bring her in for a small chat.

It was just as he pair of them got up to leave that my cell phone rang again. This time when I looked at the number I sighed and nodded to the team. 'Private call.' I mutter and leave the room quickly. It was Sam's school. They would like to get over there as quickly as possible. There has been an incident. They need to talk to me. I try to explain that Green could handle anything when I was not available, but they snapped back at me that Green was not going to come to the school and it was me who they wanted to talk to anyway. Wasn't Green just the baby sitter?

I know I've taken on too much and I still don't know why or how it came about. It's like some twisted nightmare jigsaw puzzle. I have all the pieces by I just don't seem able to put those pieces into the right places to get the picture to look normal and not some mad dark vision of failure.

I tell them to contact Green again. I tell them that it just is not possible for me to leave my work right now. Somewhere deep inside I know what I am doing is wrong. I should never have taken on this responsibility. The child need stability and not what I have to offer him; a baby sitter and me turning up occasionally late for my supper in time to see Sam falling asleep. This is wrong, but something is pulling me to that boy and it's not something I feel able to control. Maybe this is how Reid feels about the attachment he has with Flanders. No I'm not saying I'm going to leap into bed with Sam but I am wondering if both Flanders and Sam have the ability to somehow manipulate a person take from them what they need. In Reid's case it's sexual. In my case it's the need to parent and to show love. But it's not working out very well.

I back up the call to the school with a call to Green. 'Get over to the school and see what's going on. I will be there later.' I tell him. He sounds tired. I feel old. I feel as though in the past week I've aged ten years. I rub my eyes with my finger tips and just stand with my back against the wall wishing it was evening now. Wishing I could go home and sit and unzip my stress and feel that great wave of relief that I am finally home surrounded by my things and not death and rape and everything else which goes on around me all day and sometimes all night at work. My thoughts are disrupted when once again my phone rings. I put the phone to my ear and glance up to see Dave watching me. He knows I'm slipping. He's known for a long time. This call is from the hospital. Flanders has woken and making demands.

-o-o-o-

Demands. You could say I am making demands. As my back slapped down onto the bed after a nice zap with the paddles I ripped my hands out the restraints, pulled the crap off my eyes and slid the tube out of my throat and started talking.

'What in the name of fuck have you done to me?!' I can feel some of my hair is gone. I run my hands over the dressing on the side of my head and I can hear the alarmed squawking of people around me.

'Lie down and try to relax.' A voice says.

'Fuck you! You cut into my freaking brain! And you want me to relax?!' I think I might be shouting at them now, but my mind and body have gone into a full steam ahead adrenaline filled rage as I drag the straps off my legs and begin to slide off the bed.

'Mr Flanders, please, you must calm down and stay in bed.' The same voice as before.

I sneeze.

More cries of alarm from around me and a tentative hand touches my arm as I stand.

'I am fucking calm! Now where are my clothes?' I think I am walking forward but my eyes though can see it's light cannot actually see fuck all else.

'Mr Flanders!' The hand tightens on me and I stop moving and turn my head towards the voice.

'Get your fucking hand off me you silly bitch and get my clothes.'

A gasp and the hand goes. 'Well Mr Flanders there is no need to use that sort of language.'

I turn on the spot and it's much like that dark place I flip over into sometimes but in some kind of crazy reverse. 'There is every need for that sort of language sweetheart. You slice into my brain, you stuff tubes down my throat, you mutilate my hair, you strap my body to a bed and tape down my eyes and then you fucking well tell me to calm down? Have you lost your mind? Where the hell are my things?'

'You can't possibly leave the hospital, you have to have tests. You have a serious brain injury. You need to stay here.'

A rush of noise like people hurriedly vacating the room.

I sneeze again. I'm going to get a nose bleed. I can feel the tingle at the back of my nose and behind my eyes…and in what's left of my brain. 'I have a damned brain injury because some bastard sliced into me! Now get – me – my – fucking – clothes you whore!' I get a flash of an image and a sudden rush of information.

'But sir…you can't leave.' It almost sounds like she's about to burst into tears…oh wow…another sneeze and suddenly things come into focus.

'You missy will have to stop selling your body for the extra money you need for rent.' I stand and look at her. 'My clothes or shall I carry on?'

'I, I, I…..'

But she's still just standing there. 'Jimmy might not like it when he finds out that his pretty little blond nurse girlfriend is a whore.' YES! She's stepping back away from me with a look of "oh fuck" on her face. 'He might not like it that you suck boys off for a little bit extra money. He might not like that that pretty little place he thinks is reserved for him is actually a diseased hole of filth.'

'I'll get your clothes' she mutters and turns on her heel and walks to a closet thing.

'Thank you so much angel. See it wasn't that hard to do what I tell you now was it?'

'How do you know?' She's talking in a whisper.

'I guessed. You smell like a whore.' I smile at her.

-o-o-o-

How many times have I checked my email today? How many times have I double checked it? I've lost count. I need him to contact me again. I need to know that he really is there somewhere watching me. I've been pacing the apartment trying to work things out in my head but the thoughts are in a constant spin. One minute I am glad he's gone. That was a good thing. He dumped me and I reacted…that was the bad thing, but it's not really the point is it? I've never been totally free to choose before. Floyd was a part of my life long before that hot summer day when I was sixteen. I try to get him out of my head, but he just won't leave. I remember those innocent days where we played kid like games and had kid type adventures and he always kept an eye on me. He protected me. He made a promise to me…and that is a promise he's never broken. Not once that I can recall. I remember those innocent kisses…firstly on the cheek or the forehead or the back of my neck. Then the ones full on my lips. That was all though…a quick kiss. Not a sexual thing, more of a reassurance than anything. I'm not denying that things changed. Of course they changed and for me it was before I was sixteen. I felt the need to be with Floyd more and more. The need to smell that special smell he carries around with him. I need to lie back and look into his eyes and know – know that I am needed by him as much as he is needed by me. I remember that twisting deep in my stomach when he took my hand and we just walked together for mile upon mile; never talking just listening to each other breathing and feeling that hand holding onto mine tighten occasionally when he turned his head to look at me….to smile at me or maybe to plant a small kiss on the ear or side of my face. There was something different about him then. I never felt fear of him. Not really, not even when he slapped me around for not hurrying up when he told me, or for maybe asking too many questions about the blood over his clothes. He never told me where it came from, but I guessed and right back when I was a kid and he was those few years older, back then those few years meant a hell of a lot more than they do now. He was the older kid. The bigger kid. The one no one would argue with – well not more than once anyway. There was a strange bond between us. I knew if I fell asleep in some old shed he'd taken me to, or an abandoned trailer in the desert, I knew that he'd be sitting there all night watching me. I knew I was completely safe from everything except for his eyes and mouth.

That day when I was sixteen though, not actually on by birthday but some months later, that was when things changed. Before then he was my strange companion. My buddy. A guy I hung with more and more especially once Jeff moved away. Sometimes he checked over my homework for me but he never helped me with anything though I'm sure he could have if he'd wanted to or if I'd asked. But that day we sat in the shade out the back of an empty building. I think he'd been squatting in it. There was a small area which he'd placed down a blanket and we lie on our stomachs and we were reading to each other some poetry. And that was the day he claimed me. As we read I felt his hand moving over my back and then sliding up between my sweaty skin and my Tshirt. I knew what he wanted. I would have been a complete fool not to know and though I was scared as he gently pushed me so I was lying on my back and he moved to kneel and look down at me I didn't once ask him to stop.

Floyd showed me pleasure such as I never imagined.

And I remember him saying something, which I think just that once he actually meant.

'I'm sorry if I hurt you.'

And yes he did, and I really do think he was sorry. Back then.

The sudden light tapping on the door pulls me out of my memories and I glance up at the clock and realise I've been standing here reminiscing for hours. It is now nearly seven in the evening. The tapping starts again. Four light taps. I wonder if it's Hotch. It could be this time of night and that phone call earlier was a bit strange. I don't really want to talk to Hotch right now. I want a soak in the tub and I want to carry on thinking of about things I have lost, not because of anyone's fault but just through time.

Again the tapping…and I cannot ignore it. If it's Hotch he will see I am OK but tired and he will be satisfied and he'll leave. I don't even check that it is Hotch the other side of the door so convinced am I that my assumption is right. I pull the door open and he is standing there. Floyd.

'Oh.' I don't know what else to say. He's never knocked on my door before.

'I've been doing some thinking.' He says to me. He looks a mess. There are smears of blood up the side of his face. He is dirty and he has that familiar smell of death and dirt to him. He's in a black short sleeved shirt and a pair of low cut black jeans. He's encrusted with blood. He has a wooly hat pulled down over his head and his hair is sticking out in weird clumps.

'I have too.' I don't invite him in.

'I really thought for a stupid minute back then that I could walk away from you.' He puts a hand out and places it on the side of my face. 'But I can't.'

Again I don't know what to say to him except for. 'Do you want to come in and have a coffee…a smoke?'

He nods slowly at me and as I step out of the way and lose contact with his hand he reaches out and grabs my hand and walks into my apartment slamming the door behind him self with his booted foot.

'Why didn't you just let yourself in.' I ask as he drags me towards the kitchen.

'I wanted to be invited I guess.'

'And you guessed I would ask you in?'

'I had no idea what you'd do. Look Spence I need to tell you something.' He lets go of my hand and stands looking at the coffee machine and rubs the palms of his hands on the side of his jeans.

'It's OK Floyd. You don't have to explain,' I move in and get the coffee machine started up as it looks as though Floyd will stand there forever staring at it trying to will it in to working.

'No, Spence you don't understand. You know Gary?'

My hand freezes over the coffee mug I just placed on the counter. I turn to look at Floyd. 'Gary?'

'Gary the guy who fucked you without protection.'

'Oh that Gary.' I go back to looking at the coffee mug and now it's me willing milk and sugar into it by staring.

'Well I sort of sorted it so he won't do that again. Not to anyone. Actually he won't be doing much of anything to anyone again. Ever.'

I want to ask what he did, but I know. I don't have to ask. I can see by the blood behind his fingernails and that smell on his breath. I know what he's done and I'm sure it will be on the local news later. 'You shouldn't have done that.'

'Yes babes, yes I should have. He really wasn't a very nice person. He's been infecting blokes for months. I couldn't let him do that.'

I think I've stopped breathing as the memory of the fear Gary made me have comes rushing back. Floyd places his hands on my shoulders and pulls me around to face him. 'It's going to be alright babes. We are going to be alright. I've sorted Gary and now I have to sort you, but the way I sort you is going to be far more pleasurable for both of us, I can assure you of that.'

I place my hands on Floyds hips. 'Has he infected me Floyd?' I know he could tell. I know he knows if Gary did or not.

'Of course he bloody infected you!' and a quick kiss on the mouth, 'but you don't have to worry. I can sort you out. It will take about an hour or so is all. Do you think you can take me for that long?'

'I think I will have to give it a try now won't I?'

* * *


	13. Chapter 13 A Short Intermission

A Short Intermission

**a/n: Spencer/Floyd back-story chapter.**

* * *

He has his arms wrapped tightly around me and I think for the first time ever he is actually sleeping. Usually I am the one sleeping and he is the one patiently waiting for me to awaken. My mind is too full of thoughts and memories to be able to sleep just yet.

When I was twelve and Floyd was sixteen we went on an adventure of sorts. It started because mum had to go into hospital for a short while. Dad was gone; there was no one else to care for me at the time. They talked about placing me in short term foster care. Basically I ran away. I walked in the front door of this place I was going to stay and half an hour later I walked out the back, climbed over the fence and I ran. I ran in long lurching sobbing strides as fast as my twelve year old legs would carry me. It wasn't until I stopped running and looked around me that I realised that I had no idea where I was; apart from it being in the middle of nowhere. There was a long dusty road which seemed to lead on forever into the distance and disappeared in a wave of heat out there somewhere. Looking back where I'd run from all I could see was the road heading back again and desert dust and sand. So I sat at the side of the road. I had no water on me. I had no food or money. All I had in my pockets was a scrap of paper and an old pencil and a bit of boiled candy in a red wrapper. It wasn't going to keep me going for long. What I decided to do was to just sit and wait. The police would soon be looking for me and there were not a whole lot of places a twelve year old boy could go, unless it was straight out into the desert.

Hot…it was too hot. I could feel the sun burning the top of my head and my bare arms. I pulled my arms inside of my Tshirt to give them some protection but it was my head I was more bothered about.

I think I muttered a few times. 'Hurry up before I die.' But I don't know who I was muttering my words at. I certainly didn't want them to take me back to the foster home; however nice the people there were, that's not where I belonged. I wanted to be with my mum. I wanted to know what was going on, and I was terrified that they'd one day take her away and never bring her back again. I sat with my knees pulled up and my arms stuffed down my Tshirt and my head resting on my knees for a couple of hours on this long lonely empty road before I heard the sound of a vehicle. I wanted to look up and see what it was, but I didn't. I decided to wait and see if whoever it was stopped. A little bit of child like fear gripped me. It could after all be anyone. It could be some child murderer looking for his or her next victim and suddenly I wished could disappear and sink into the hot sand. I heard something pull up next to me.

'Get on.'

The voice said. And I knew that voice. I looked up and saw my friend Floyd sitting there on his big bike. He looked too small to be riding it but he sat there staring at me.

'Get up and get on. You can't stay there all day you'll shrivel up and die.'

I stood up and walked over to him. My legs hurt and the back of my neck was burnt. I wiped at my eyes with the heels of my hands and suddenly I was standing there crying with bubbles of snot popping their way out of my nostrils. I wanted to ask how he knew where I was, but I didn't think I could actually talk. Any words would have come out stuttering nonsensically. I kept my head down feeling the shame of standing here in the middle of nowhere with my buddy who'd come to my rescue crying. An arm rested across my shoulders and pulled me in close.

'Hey it's OK. Everything is going to be fine. Give your mum a few days and she'll be back.' His hands felt strangely cold on the back of my neck. 'Don't cry Spence, you're using up precious water there.' His hand now slid down my arm and he took me by the hand. 'I've got some water and something for you to cover your head and neck. What the hell were you thinking of just running off like that?'

I looked up at him and shook my head. 'I don't know. I just freaked out I guess.'

So Floyd rescued me. He gave me a drink of water and he wiped the snot off my face with an old rag and then plopped a cotton hat on my head. I thought he'd just take me back to the foster home, but he didn't. Instead of turning his bike around we kept on going. It felt wonderful. The wind blowing in my face and my arms tightly wrapped around my saviour.

We actually ended up in an old trailer down yet another dirt road further away from anywhere. To be honest I was nervous about this. Yes I trusted Floyd totally, he was always there at my side to stand up for me and help me when things were going bad, but I was getting a funny feeling about this. When the bike pulled up and I slid off the back Floyd jumped down and turned grinning at me.

'You like it? I thought we could stay here for a few days.'

'Here?' I turned slowly and looked at the place. 'We can't stay here Floyd.'

But of course we did stay there. The place was odd and cool inside. I asked who it belonged to and he just shrugged. 'Well doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while, so don't worry about it.' I wondered if the police were looking for me. They'd not been looking too hard if they had been. If Floyd could find me when he didn't even know I'd gone, then surely the cops would have been able to.

It was here that Floyd made proper contact with me for the first time. When it got dark and I was tired and I lay down to try to see if I could sleep Floyd lay down next to me and wrapped a comforting arm around me. 'She's going to be back in a few days. You'll see. Nothing to worry about. They're not going to lock you up somewhere, but I know you're worried and I know my words won't convince you. You will have to wait and see. Then you'll maybe trust me a bit more.'

'I do trust you.' I told him. And I did.

'Then go to sleep. Tomorrow we will go somewhere else. Have an adventure like Huck Fin and Tom Sawyer.' And he planted a kiss on my forehead. 'You know I'd never let anything bad happen to you don't you?'

And I think I gave him a reply but maybe I was asleep by then.

He was as good as his word and after three days he returned me to my front door. I was in trouble. They wanted to know where I'd been but I just told them I was out in the desert. Which was the truth.

There were a few other times Floyd came and picked me up on his bike and we just went away for a few days. Nothing bad ever happened. It was like a small holiday every now and then. On days when mum was feeling really bad and there was no food in the house a package of goodies would suddenly arrive on the door step. I know it was Floyd who did this, though I never asked. I knew because I could smell him on the packaging. Even back then I knew his smell and it was a comforting smell. Something which made me feel good on the inside.

Sometimes I'd be walking out of the gates of the school and he'd be there on his bike waiting for me. The kids shouted names out until one day Floyd got off the bike and slapped one of them so hard I thought that the boy's head was going to come off. He knocked him off his feet and Floyd stood above him.

'You want to call Spence names then you better come through me first. You understand me?'

The name calling stopped. Well most of the time it did and never again when Floyd was around. The other kids though some of them bigger than my protector were wary of this stranger and his big bike.

It was a few years later though that things really happened and as I lie here in my bed and feel his hot steady breath on the back of my neck I'm pulled right back to when I was just sixteen.

I had grown tall and skinny and was now taller than Floyd. We were just buddies. But there was a special bond between the two of us. A bond which meant it was acceptable for Floyd to kiss me on the mouth just as I was falling asleep. A bond which made me want to be with him more and more and though that kiss on the mouth was just that…nothing else; it was ours. I don't know if that makes sense at all. It wasn't sexual. It was just a natural thing. Occasionally it was me who gave a light kiss on Floyd's face, but mostly it was just a kiss goodnight. A gentle touching of lips and nothing else. Like a parent would kiss a small child only now we were both growing up and needing more.

I'm not stupid. I knew what I was. I'd known for a long time and I'm sure Floyd knew that too, but it was not something we ever talked about. He certainly never discussed his orientation with me, though I was sure that through that tough exterior he displayed was someone willing to take what he wanted when he wanted. He never talked to me about girls. I never talked to him about them. They just never came up in conversation. I did notice him watching guys though and that's fine. I was watching them too. Though if this was because I saw him looking first or if I'd have been doing it anyway I don't know. I need to get to the point of this little story I am telling you. I've taken a long time getting to this part because I wanted you to know that although Floyd had hit me a couple of times in the past it had always been for a reason. It was always my fault. I drove him to it.

This day started out different though. Floyd was acting oddly from the minute he picked me up outside the house. He seemed skittish. Almost nervous and he smelt odd too. I put it to the back of my mind as I always did with things concerning Floyd. I'd tried asking him things in the past about what put him in these odd moods and he would get mad with me. Shouting obscenities and pacing in circles and telling me that…and I quote "There is nothing fucking wrong with me you stupid freak."

I know he didn't mean it. I wouldn't let myself think that he really thought of me as a freak. That's what the kids at school would call me and though at college it wasn't quite as bad, I still got called that.

He drove out and to downtown Vegas. There were some old abandoned warehouses he wanted to go to for some reason and I could feel with my arms tightly around him that he wasn't relaxed. He felt annoyed that I was holding on so tightly. I gave resting my head on his back a miss today. Something was wrong. We pulled up in a vacant lot. Well everything here seemed pretty vacant. I remember that there was a slight breeze which almost took the edge off the heat, but not quite. I slid off the back of the bike and watched as Floyd parked up the bike. He then turned to look at me. He's always been pale skinned but today his skin was almost translucent. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I knew by now not to bother asking. He ran his hand over the back of his neck as though he was thinking about something and then he pulled something out of his pocket and stepped towards me.

'You know Spence, sometimes you annoy me so fucking much I want to kick you into next week.'

I licked my lips as a surge of nervous adrenaline swept through me. I had no idea what I'd done to annoy him so much and in truth I doubt I'd done anything.

'I'm sorry.' I said to him.

'Yeah well you always are aren't you Spence.'

And I gave him a small shrug and a nervous smile.

'I have this.' He opened his hand and showed it to me. I knew what it was. I knew Floyd took drugs and I'd seen his small twists of powder before.

'You brought me here so you can take drugs?' I was confused now.

He lifted his hand towards my face causing me to flinch back slightly from the hand. 'No, actually I brought you here to show you how fucking pissed off I am with you.' And his hand lightly touched my cheek. 'But I think if I start showing you now I'll not be able to stop so yeah, in a way I am here to snort my shit and you're going to have to sit and wait.'

The hand dropped from my face again and I looked around me. There was nothing but empty warehouses and dust. There didn't seem to be anything alive here but the two of us. I swallowed and took a step back. 'Can you take me home? I don't really want to be here while you drug yourself again and lie there talking to yourself for hours.' I knew when he came round from his trip from wherever it was he went that the violent impulses he was feeling now would have increased and I was going to get a thumping which I didn't really want.

'No I can't fucking well take you back home. You can sit and wait, or you can go play in the empty buildings.'

'It will be dark in a few hours. I don't want to be here alone in the dark.' That adrenaline though was making me sweat and I rubbed my hands furiously on the side of my jeans.

'Then sit in the fucking dark! You won't be alone. I'm here.'

'Floyd… .' I was going to start beginning him to just slap me around now and get it over with but he cut me off with a wave of his hand and a sharp tongue.

'Grow up Spence. There are no monsters in the dark.' He then walked over to the bike and pulled something out of the panniers. A gun. I don't even remember now what sort of gun it was. It really didn't matter to my sixteen year old mind. It was a gun. That's all that mattered. 'Take it.' He pointed it towards me butt first.

'What? I don't want a gun!'

'Take it. It wasn't a request. Take the damned thing. If any monsters run at you, just pull the trigger and stop them. Easy.' He walked forward and put the weapon in my damp sweaty hand. 'Now sit in the shade and wait for me.'

So that's what I did. I walked to the edge of the building we were near and sat with my back against the wall hoping deep inside that he'd change his mind and not take the stuff and hoping that if he did then he'd wake up before it got too dark and obviously when he did wake that he'd not be one of the monsters I was going to have to shoot.

He lay down in the dirt right out there in the sun and took a pinch of his powder and he was gone. I sat and watched him with the gun lying on the ground next to me. I watched the expression on his face relax and I saw that strange smile he gets when he's messing with his mind with drugs. For a long while he just lay there on the ground but he was soon muttering strange words to himself and breaking out into song. I leaned back against the building and all I can think of is that I fell asleep. I don't know of any other reason that I didn't hear the vehicles arrive. I didn't know there was anyone there…the monsters from the dark…until one of them threw something at me and caught me on the side of the face. I think it was just a small stone, but enough to wake me. There were six guys of varying height and build. Two had shaved heads and one had a pony tail and that's all I remember of their faces. The rest of the memory of what happened is etched into my brain as pure fear. The gun Floyd had given me was no longer on the ground at my side. It was in the hand of one of the monsters.

I remember being pulled to the ground.

I remember their hands all over me pulling at my clothes. I remember the pain from their boots and fists, but most of all right there I remembered the feel of the cold metal of the gun pressing against my flesh. I was going to die. I was sure of it. I was going to die and Floyd was lying there muttering something about rainbows and flying fish. I remember how they pushed me onto my front and pulled at my jeans. I can still hear their insane laughter as that cold metal touched my butt. I think I begged them to stop. I think I called out to Floyd to wake up and help. I think I asked them not to hurt me, but maybe I didn't. If I did they certainly ignored me for the most part. They kicked me until I stopped squirming under them and then they suddenly stopped. That scared me I think more than the kicking. I was sure at that point that I was going to die and not in a very nice way either. It took me a while to realise that Floyd was talking to them. It was something like…

'What in the name of fuck are you doing to my boy?'

…and I really think those were a poor choice of words. I turned my head to look over at Floyd who was on his knees staring at them. He had drool running from the corners of his mouth and a trickle of blood from his nose. I watched the guys start to walk over to him and I felt the cold metal slide out of me again. I watched as Floyd tried to get to his feet and fail and I heard him shout at me.

'Why didn't you fucking shoot them you stupid freak?!'

The rest is a blur of horror. I think my mind has just deleted parts of it. I can remember watching as they left me and swooped down on Floyd. I watched and I couldn't move. The fight or flight in me had dulled down to a point where I was so terrified and my body was shaking so much that I was incapacitated. I lay there and watched them flatten Floyd to the ground. I watched their feet smacking into him. I could vaguely hear him cursing them with words I'd never heard before and then it was silent. Total silence. I knew that there should have been sound. I knew that the guys were laughing but again my brain took control of me and decided that I really didn't need to hear what was going on. A couple of the guys and I remember seeing one of them had a stomach which squeezed out from it's restraint behind his shirt and belt of this combat pants and I kept my eyes on that as it swayed towards me jiggling and peeking out from behind a red and blue checked shirt. Then my eyes moved down to the guys legs and I could see splatters of what looked like blood on his legs and the toes of those boots. Someone was screaming – and I think it was me. I heard the muffled gun shot which sounded like it was a million miles away and then it was complete darkness.

When I next opened my eyes there was a faint glow of morning light drifting over the sky and a not so faint sound of buzzing. I looked over to where I last saw Floyd and I could see him clearly even though the light was dim. He was lying on his front. They'd pulled his jeans down to around his knees. His arms were splayed at his side and he was facing away from me. Slowly I started to crawl over towards him. I called out his name, but got no reply. As I moved closer over the desert dirt I could hear the noise of the buzzing getting louder.

It must have taken me about twenty minutes to cover the hundred foot or so which was separating us. Every part of my body was screaming in pain. I'd managed to pull my pants back up but as I crawled they kept sliding back down again. I stopped over and over to pull them back to where they should have been. When I was finally within touching distance of Floyd it was obvious what had happened. Well as obvious as a fairly sheltered sixteen year old could see anyway. There was a pool of blood under Floyd and more on his back and the back of his legs and around the gun which was still firmly inserted into his rear end. I called his name again and waved at the flies which had gathered around and on him. Some of them left and circled around us then returned. Some of them left Floyd for me. They crawled on my face and around my eyes and mouth. They were buzzing towards my ears and drinking on the fluid which was dripping from my nose. I touched his hand gently. I'm a genius. I knew someone cannot survive being shot where he had. I knew that no one can lose that amount of blood and still be alive. Yet, when I touched his hand it twitched slightly under my fingers. Pushing myself up onto my knees I moved slightly closer and quickly before I could think about it grabbed the gun and pulled it from him; tossing it aside into the sandy dirt.

'Ah shit.'

I remember those words. Along with the pain and humiliation those two words are etched there with so much other stuff my brain refuses to let me forget. I watched and I think I was in shock, as he rolled over onto his side to face me. I heard the noise of the blood as he pulled his chest away from the mess which had been made. I reached out again and this time touched his face. Something in the back of my mind was telling me I was hallucinating. He couldn't have survived that. No one could. It was just not possible. But there I was looking at him moving his hands down over his chest and stomach with a slightly confused expression on his face.

'They shot me.' He told me. 'The bastards actually shot me.'

I didn't know how he was managing to talk but he was. However I wasn't able to reply to him. I knew if I'd opened my mouth then I would have started screaming or crying and either one would never have stopped. And now I have reached the part of this story or memory which I wanted to get to. I wanted to tell people that this man though he is possibly insane and probably should be locked up somewhere and the key thrown away – is the only man I will or could every fully trust with my life. The conversation went like this.

'I'm sorry.' His voice was faint but clear. He lifted a hand towards me and grabbed my arm and pulled me down into the mess he was lying in. 'Are you alright?' He then asked as his arms wrapped tightly around me, but I couldn't answer him. 'I shouldn't have given you the gun. I shouldn't have brought you here. Shit Spence I'm sorry.' But surely this was my fault. I should have stayed awake. Was I not meant to be protecting him whilst he went into one of his drugged dreams? 'I'll never do that again. I'll never put you at risk like that again.' He pulled me tighter to him so that my back was to his front. I could feel the blood seeping through my clothing and sticking to my back. 'If I'd not given you that damned gun they wouldn't have done that to you. Spence…' Comforting hands moved over my chest and then rested where they could feel my heart pounding away like it was trying to escape from under my ribs. 'Spence…never again. I promise. I'll never put you in danger like that again. I'll never carry a weapon, not a gun, not a knife….nothing.'

'I should have stayed awake.' I whispered back at him. I didn't understand why he was being like this. I didn't understand why he wasn't blaming me.

'I shouldn't have given you a gun. Spence, It will never happen again. I don't make promises lightly Babes, and when I do I keep them to the end.'

He called me "Babes" That was the first time. This was the first time where being held by Floyd felt like something different. It was different. I could feel his heavy breathing on the back of my neck. I could feel his hands pressing against my chest and I felt myself pressing my body back tight against his and I heard a long contented sigh coming from Floyd.

That was the start of it I think. That was the day that innocence ended for me.

Had he groomed me? Had that been what had been going on for so long? I don't know. I really do doubt it though. It just felt like a natural progression from friendship and companionship to protector and lover.

There is so much more to the story of this phase of my life. So many more things happened, but that day as we lay in the dirt and pushed ourselves against each other was for me the beginning of a whole new understanding of Floyd.

And now I think I might be able to sleep.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14 Talking Through the Rules

Talking Through the Rules

**a/n: I don't feel very well today and I think it's effected the chapter…sorry about that…back to 'normal' again tomorrow I hope.**

* * *

Cin Haven was brought in. Not for questioning though. She was taken directly to the morgue. Arrowman had been right on one count. There was no way that this woman would have been able to lift a gun let alone fire one. In her kitchen there were bottles of medication of a startling variety, but it seemed none of them had been able to keep the emaciated former porn queen alive. Morgan and Prentiss did a quick walk through of the small stuff apartment being careful not to touch anything. They saw the dirty plates and cups on the counter in the kitchen. They saw the sprinkling of something all around the edges of the floor.

'Rat poison?' Prentiss said to Morgan who gave a small shrug as a reply. The CSU would have to get in here and see exactly what all this stuff was that Cin had in her small grubby apartment.

The bathroom looked as though it had not been used properly in a long time. There was a layer of dust in the bath and in the shower tray. The small white wash basin though had been used. As had the toilet which looked like it had not been cleaning in months. It was the bedrooms though which made them curious as to exactly what was going on here. One of them, a definite female's room; pink wallpaper and a white carpet and a bed with rich looking covers of a deep blood red. The small dressing table was covered in bottles of perfume and pots of makeup and brushes. These too though were covered in a layer of dust. The bed was made up but obviously had not been slept in for a while. The room was clean and tidy, but just unused and dusty. The second bedroom was a stark contrast. It had white painted walls and a dark blue carpet. The small window had a pull down blind which was closed. The bed had a pale blue cover over it which had been roughly pulled over what appeared to be an unmade bed. There was no dust in here. The room had been occupied recently by someone who kept it reasonably clean and tidy.

'A man's room?' Prentiss again talked to Morgan.

'Appears so, but there's nothing here to suggest he stays long. No storage for clothes. Nothing you'd expect a guy to have in his room.'

Emily glanced over at Morgan with a quizzical look on her face.

'What I mean is there are no personal items Emily, no clothes, nothing for personal hygiene, nothing to shave with or wash with. There's no bathroom cabinet so you'd expect those things to be here and they're not. Whoever sleeps in here it's just temporary. He has somewhere else to go back to.'

'We are sure this is a man?' Emily was standing in the doorway looking around the room.

'No hair brush.'

'Oh right. There's no hair brush so it must be a guy's room?' Emily was getting irritated by Morgan today. She was tired and felt sick and this place stank of death.

'It just feels like a guy's room to me and if it is, if someone has been here staying over the odd night or so to keep an eye on Miss Haven, then maybe that is who we are looking for. The total lack of anything personal here speaks volumes to me.'

Emily nodded. She agreed with Derek it was possible. They had to find who was staying with Miss Haven. 'We need to get out of here and watch. See if he returns.' She bit down on her bottom lip. 'Miss Haven hasn't been dead long. He might not know. In the meantime we can get Garcia to find out all she can about this woman.'

-o-o-o-

Sam was awake and sitting up in his bed when I got there. I walked cautiously over to him and sat on the chair next to him. He didn't look at me. He didn't acknowledge my presence. He looked ill and small sitting there in the bed. Whatever bravado he had been showing previously seemed to have left him. He looked like a scared little boy now. Not a dangerous disturbed teenager.

'How are you feeling?' I asked him and slowly his head moved and he faced me.

'I'm feeling like shit actually Aaron.' His hands were twisting and he was cracking his knuckles, but at least that was all he was doing with his hands for now.

'Do you want to tell me what happened? What you took?'

I could see a small frown cross his face, which in a way was a relief. At least that empty blank look had gone for a fleeting second or two.

'At which point do you want me to start?'

Cracking his knuckles harder.

'What happened in the showers?'

He looked away from me and slid his hands under the bed covers. 'I stripped off ready. I stank of vomit and piss. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest that I thought I was going to have a heart attack, then I remembered the pills Green gave me. I had them in my pocket. He told me they would calm me down and make the day easier. So I went for the shower and popped one in my mouth. That's all I remember. Next thing I know I'm in here being fussed over like I'm a damned baby. Aaron I told you Green was bad. What if I'd taken all of those pills? What then? I'd be dead. Green is bad. I know he is. He smells wrong.'

I wanted to believe Sam. I really did, but an Agent who was meant to be looking after him giving him drugs? Something wasn't right here. 'What happened when you were in the room with the other boys?' I asked him.

'That place freaked me out. I didn't want to go in there. They'd have locked me in. The tiles on the floor were wrong. The place just is all wrong Aaron. I want to go home. I want to go back to my own people. I don't want to stay with you. You don't trust or believe a damned word I say. Look at my bruises. I didn't kick myself in the back….oh and he did something with my breakfast! He fucking poisoned me. I could hardly walk! Then….'

I cut him off. 'You can't go back Sam. There is no where to go back to. Let me see your back.' I knew they had done blood tests on him to see exactly what it was he'd taken. I had already decided not to discuss that further with Sam until they had the results back. 'What I want you to do is stay here for a while longer; just a night or two. Clara is going to carry on talking to you and I want you to talk to her. I need you to be truthful Sam. Then we can start helping you.'

His hands were moving under the covers now and I could see a sweat breaking out on his brow.

'You don't believe me. No one believes me, so what's the point in talking. I've told you what happened. I've said about Green and how something's wrong with him. I should be a profiler. I can see it. It's so plain on his face Aaron. Why can't you see it too? He hates me. He just wants to hurt me.' He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around his legs, still under the covers.

'I will talk to Green.' I tell him. 'and in the meantime I want you to talk to Clara. If we know what's been going on then we can help.'

'Don't just say you're going to talk to him and don't. He will kill me Aaron. I know he will. He might have done today if I'd taken all those pills. What sort of a man gives drugs to a kid?'

I try to keep my expression neutral. I have no idea what sort of a man Green is if half of what Sam is saying is true. The fact is though that Sam seems genuinely scared of the man. I don't want him to be living in fear. This was meant to make things easier for the boy, not cause him to be acting out like this.

'I don't need help.' Sam blurts out. 'Why do people want to help me? There's nothing wrong with me. I just need…' He pauses. 'I don't know what I need, maybe security? I need to feel safe I guess and I don't with Green and I didn't feel safe in that day room place. I was too exposed. I couldn't keep my back safe in there. Too enclosed.' Again he pauses. 'Will they lock me up; you know if I stay here the night, will they lock me in my room? I don't think I can do that Aaron. I don't like being locked in places. It freaks me out.'

'You need to explain these things to Clara. You need to tell her how you are feeling and what's made you feel like it. Then we can start to help you.'

-o-o-o-

Aaron didn't stay for long. He said he had to get back and do stuff. I hope part of that stuff is keeping that bastard Green away from me. I can deal with that Mackie, but Green is another thing altogether. Yes I lied about those pills, but maybe Aaron will now talk to him. Even if he knows I lied he might just see that I did it for a reason. Then of course if he talks to Green he might smell what I can smell or see what I can see.

Clara is here to talk to me now. She's wearing a blue denim skirt and a white blouse today. She sits on the chair Aaron was in and has a note pad on her lap and she's not looking entirely happy with me or with something. I assume it's me. No one seems too happy with me right now.

'How are you feeling now?' She wants to know.

How does she expect me to be feeling? 'I feel like I've done something wrong. That everyone thinks I've done something wrong. They're going to keep me here for the night. They're going to lock me up like I'm a dumb criminal or a mad man. I'm not.'

She scribbles something down in her note book. 'I want to talk to you more about your past. Is that alright with you?'

I hug my legs tightly and look at her. 'I don't have a choice do I? It's that or be locked away somewhere.'

'I think it would be good for you talk about things Sam. It helps you sort things out in your head if you talk about them. It helps to put things into order.'

'What do you want to know?' I look down at my bed covers. I don't want to talk about things. I want to be left alone. I want to know if my dad is alright and no one will tell me anything.

'How about friendships?' She asks me.

I shrug at her. 'I don't have friends. Never needed one. That's not how things work.'

'Tell me how things work then Sam. When you were a child who did you play with? Who were the adults taking care of you?' She's making more notes.

'I didn't have friends. I didn't play. I said that's not how things work.' I let out a long dramatic sigh. 'There's no time to play like a kid when you have to watch your back all the time. When you have to be careful what you say or do because you don't know what the repercussions are going to be if you do something they don't like.'

'I see. So when you were in pain or feeling sad who would you go to?' More notes.

'No one. You learn to sort it out for yourself.'

'There must have been an adult in charge. Who was that person?'

'Oh Louis is in charge. He's the one to hand out the punishments and such and keep control of things. He's the one who'd give you tasks to do and stuff, but he wasn't someone you go to if there's a problem. He _was _the problem. I'd go back there though. I knew my place there. I knew how things worked. This world I'm in now is just confusing and insane. I knew that Louis wasn't going to kill me. Well at least most of the time I knew that, but now, well I just don't know anymore. I don't feel safe. I don't know my place. Everyone is a risk. Everyone is a danger and I can't keep my back to the wall and protect myself here. There are too many openings for the wrong sort of people to find me.'

'Why do you think people are going to hurt you?' scribble, scribble. Scribble. She's keeping a very close watch on me.

'That's what happens. I thought Aaron would be able to keep me safe but he's thrown me in with Green and now here. He's going to allow them to lock me up here. I thought he was different. I really did. I thought I could trust him, but he's like everyone else in the end. I should have guessed that because of his lack of interest in his own son. Why would he show me care if he can't do it for his own?'

'I can't answer that question Sam, but I know he's doing his best for you.' Now she pauses. 'I'm going to ask you a very personal question.' She waits for my reaction which is a raising of an eyebrow. 'Are you sexually active?'

I snort a laugh at her. 'I've been sexually active for as long as I can remember. It's part of what I am Miss Clara.' More rapid note taking.

'Can you tell me what form it takes? At what age did this start?'

'I'm a fag Miss Clara. I like to be taken up the arse. When did it start? I have no idea to be honest with you. I can't remember a time when I wasn't receiving.' The note taking stops.

'Who was doing this to you?' She's watching me oh so very carefully.'

'Anyone. Everyone. It's what I am. That is my place.' A quick burst of notes and she stands up.

'I'm going to leave you to rest now. You will be given a room for the night and I'll come and make sure that you are settled and feel safe.'

'They will lock me in. I can't be locked in somewhere. I'll freak out.'

'Let's take one step at a time Sam. Being locked in isn't necessarily what is going to happen. I will go and talk to someone and see what we can come up with, but you must know that you have to keep your sexual needs to yourself.'

'You don't want me being buggered while I'm here. Fine. I'll try not to let that happen.'

She didn't say anything else…she just turned and left the small hospital type room I was in. I have to say that I'm pissed off with everyone right now. I flop back down onto the bed and close my eyes and try to get some kind of control going on in my brain because it feels as though I'm going to swing into full bitching mode real soon. I'm tired of being pushed around and treated like a freak. If people want to do that to me then let me go home back to the clan and at least I'll be somewhere familiar. Yet I don't think Louis would let me back yet. I think he's probably still pissed off with me about stuff. I can't help it though. It's a genetic thing – I can promise you that. You are what you are.

A small group of people come and take me out of this place though. They tell me they will show me to a room I can spend the night in. Somewhere safe where I can relax. They tell me they will get me something to eat and I tell them I'm not hungry. I tell them I feel sick and heavy in the head and I just want to sleep but they keep telling me I have to eat.

The room isn't so bad really. At least there is a window I can see out of. A window with bars but a window none the less. There is a bed and a desk and an arm chair thing. The walls are pale green and the floor is tiled with the same green and white things that the meeting room place had. There's something about those tiles I don't like. I'm not sure if it's the colour or the pattern they are set in, but they make me feel uncomfortable. Looking like I have little choice in the matter I complain only slightly about the floor. They show me where the bathroom is. I will have to share with six other boys in this section of the wing. They then take me down to where I can sit with the other boys and watch TV and play pool and stuff. I'm not going to like it here. I can already feel the walls closing in on me and I can't keep my back safe here. I'm too vulnerable in this room. I thank the guys who showed me here and turn and walk back to the room I've been given. They tell me that they won't be locking me in and now I don't know if that's good or bad. In one way I want the door open, I want to be able to get out if I need to, but in another way I don't want people walking in when I'm sleeping. I feel terribly exposed here, but they just tell me that it's because it's unfamiliar and I'll settle if I give it the chance. There will be a lot of staff on hand all the time. I just need to call out if I need anything. I know Mackie is on this ward and so I go back to my room and sit on my bed facing the wall so I don't have to look at the floor and make a plan in my head about what I'm going to do when the bastard comes for me, because I know he will. I know he'll come in my room and I know he's going to make his play for being top dog on the ward and I'm going to have to be prepared for this, cos I know whatever I say no one will believe a fucking word I say. I make a list in my head.

1. Give Mackie what he wants.

2. Kill the son of a bitch.

3. Scream like a girl and get someone to help me.

4. Show Mackie that I'll not be intimidated by him and replace him as top dog.

5. None of the above.

-o-o-o-

I drive home that evening not sure what to make of what Sam said to me. I know he's deceitful and I'm sure he was lying about Green giving him the drugs, but why would he do that? I give Green a call and ask him to pop over to see me. I have to know what is going on. As I pull up outside my home Green is sitting there in his car waiting for me. I give him a nod to let him know I've seen him and he gets out of his car and walks over.

'You wanted to see me?' There is something about Green today which feels a bit off, but I wonder if it's just the thoughts Sam has put in my head.

'Come in and have a drink? I just need a chat.'

He nods an affirmative and we enter the house. I direct Green to the lounge and tell him to get a drink. I'll be right with him. As I walk to the bathroom my cell vibrates in my suit pants pocket. I pull it out and look to see who the caller is. It's Morgan.

'Hotch.' I say as I close the bathroom door behind me.

'_I have something here and I'm not sure what to make of it. The woman, Cin Haven, Garcia did a background check on her. She's been ill for a long time. Drugs and then cancer, but the real strange thing is that she has an older brother. Ambrose Green.'_

I think I'm breathing too heavily down the phone. 'Agent Green?' I question.

'_One and the same. Do you want him picked up? I have his home address here…his official address.'_

'I'm with him now. Go and check out his place I'll keep him here.'

'_You need back up?'_

'No. I'll call you if I need.'

'_If you're sure. I can send Dave over.'_

'Not yet Morgan. Go and check his place out yet and get Garcia to do a full background check on Green.'

I end the call and just stand there not knowing what to make of this. Could Green be the person killing the porn actresses? Is this what Sam has been picking up on all along? I make sure I have my gun still on my belt. I am in a habit of removing it as soon as I walk in my door. I then check the one on my ankle and then I stand there thinking that if Green had indeed killed those women, then was what Sam said true? I'm going to have to tread carefully here.

I do what I need to do and wash my hands and leave the bathroom and go out to join Green who has a glass of whiskey in his hand and is standing by the fireplace looking at a photograph of Jack.

'Nice kid.' He tells me.

I sort of smile at him. I'm not finding this easy. 'I need to talk to you about Sam.'

'The kid has problems. He needs to be locked up somewhere.' He says.

'I'm trying to help him, but he's saying things which I need to clear up with you.'

'Saying things?' He turns around and walks to the couch and sits. I take a seat in the arm chair.

'He's afraid of you. He said you hurt him and gave him drugs.'

'He's not well is that boy. He won't let me get near him. I didn't give him drugs.'

I note that he doesn't deny hurting him, but I can see that he's as puzzled as I am over the drugs accusation. 'I think I need to get someone else who he will feel safe with.' I watch him very carefully.

'If you want. If that's all I have things I need to get done.' He stands up and puts the glass on the small table to the side of the couch. I don't want him leaving yet.

'I'd still like to know why he would accuse you of such a thing.'

'I'm not going to stand here and listen to this shit. If you want to accuse me of hurting and drugging the boy then go for it. But stop playing you games with me Hotchner. Why am I really here?' He is standing facing me, but I remain seated.

'I'm not accusing you. I was hoping to understand Sam a bit better by talking to you. What sort of mood was he in when he woke up this morning?'

Now he takes a step towards me and I stand. 'What sort of a mood? The sort of mood a kid would be in when ripped away from what he knows and stuffed in a strange house then abandoned. He was pissed off and scared. What the hell sort of mood do you think he'd have been in?'

I don't like the way I'm being talked to. I don't like this attitude and I am wondering why I'd not seen it before. Probably because my mind was elsewhere. I was not thinking straight. I'm still not thinking straight as I turn my back on Green to go to the kitchen. The pain in the back of my head is so sudden and unexpected that it puts me straight to my knees. I fumble for my gun and booted feet smack into my face and Green is shouting at me. I can't make out his words he is screaming incoherently. I grab for my side arm but his feet are now stamping down on my hands to stop me. The pain is unbelievable and though I am trying to roll and get up and escape the sudden attack I am still wondering if he really did hurt Sam's hand. Did he really drug and poison the boy and this is a distraction I could do without. I can feel that my face is bleeding. My teeth have torn into the side of my face and I am spitting out blood as the relentless kicking continues. I feel him remove the weapon from my ankle and now I'm lying on my back and he is standing above me with his boot pressed hard against my groin.

'Everyone just keeps on fucking me around!' He is shouting and spitting and I'm trying to wriggle away but the foot presses down harder.

'Stop!' I shout at him and dribble blood down my chin.

'Calm down Green.' I need to take control of this somehow. 'Move back away from me and sit.'

'Why? So you can have my ass over this misunderstanding?! I've had it up to my eyeballs with people pushing and pressing their will on me! I've damned well had enough.' His foot presses down harder.

'Think what you're doing.' I try to keep my voice level and calm.

'I know what I'm doing. I'm fucking with Hotchner and you can't do bugger all about it. You think you're the great leader of great men? Look at you now Hotch…not feeling so great now are you?' The pressure leaves my groin but only long enough for him to pull his foot back and kick. The world goes a ragged grey colour and then dark with an explosion of stars blasting through my brain. Then blessed darkness.

* * *


End file.
